The Beginning of the End
by Shakespeare Diva
Summary: Warren's senior year at Sky High ushers in a new hero, and a closer look at Peace's past. MAJOR CHANGES to chapters 7,8,9. PLEASE reread...
1. Sudden Death Drills

AN: Sky High is Disney's, the character's are the writer's, the original's are mine and everything else belongs to Samuel L. Jackson. Or at least, I think it should.

Sudden Death Drills

The final bell rang and dozens of Sky High seniors milled about Coach Boomer's ref chair buzzing as they caught one another up on who did what and with whom over the summer. As usual, Warren Peace sat by himself on the bleachers, his stringy black hair falling in front of his downcast eyes. The rest of the seniors, however, milled and talked and waited, occasionally tugging at their stripped knee socks.

A sharp whistle snapped everyone out of the summer and into the approaching school year- the last of their high school career. Boomer climbed up onto his perch and straddled the edge, his thick legs, thicker socks and frighteningly tight shorts looming above the students in all of his gym teacher glory.

"Alright, listen up," He boomed, his normal voice thundering through the gym, making even Warren cringe. "This is senior year. No more babying. After this year you'll be saving the world, and to do that, you'll need to be in super physical condition. I hope all of you trained this summer because," He paused for a moment and his smile narrowed in a way that meant something sadistic was on it's way. Then, with enough sonic boom to make the floorboards tremble and get his point across he bellowed, "Sudden Death Drills!" and punctuated it with a whistle blow.

Everyone moaned but moved quickly, Boomer's echo replaced with thudding trainers and squeaky sneakers. Students quickly paired off, hero vs. hero, sidekick vs. sidekick. Warren, true to form, stalked slowly out onto the court, peering menacingly from behind his fringe. Soon the court was filled with pairs, all nervously shuffling from one foot to another or tugging at a loose sting on their gym shorts. Boomer's Sudden Death Drills were famous, mostly for sending kids to the nurses office with broken bones and bleeding noses.

"Now, the purpose of these drills is to test your combat skills," Boomer continued, now on the court boards and wandering through the nerve-stricken couples. "You will attack your partner as though your grade depended on it, which it does. The goal is to neutralize your opponent. Powers are allowed, but remember, being able to fly or whatever wont save you from a sucker punch. Hothead, where's your partner?"

Boomer made his way to Warren who was standing by himself, the other couples having cleared a four foot radius to give the outcast some space. Boomer looked through the class, his eyes narrowed in annoyance, then he stopped and whistled through his fingers waving someone over from the benches. Warren glanced up from behind his scowl and inwardly sighed. Margaret Allen was making her way through the pairs, her messy braids bouncing along with her unsteady gait. She'd been a sidekick since the first day of school when she confessed that her powers hadn't manifested quiet yet. Warren, being on the hero tract, hadn't seen her since except for the odd encounter in the lunch room. She was the only person, other than himself, who ate alone, but her solitude wasn't by choice. On the social ladder she was lower than the freshmen sidekicks and was a favorite "toy" of Lash and Dash's before Stronghold had shown up. She shuffled to a halt before Warren, her concaved shoulders rounding a bit more in fear. Even though he had helped to save Sky High the night of homecoming, Warren's reputation was still that of a dangerous young man. It was whispered that he would most likely be the greatest villain ever to graduate from the floating school and that Stronghold would be his archenemy, regardless of their psuedo- friendly demeanor on school grounds.

"Fine, now on my signal, begin. One…"

Each and every student lowered themselves, leaning over a bit and throwing their hands out in front in a how of combative pretense. Every single one of the them was shaking.

"Two…"

Except for Warren. He straightened up and tossed his head back, pulling his hair up into a ponytail behind him. He took a deep breath and watch Margaret calmly, his face emotionless and surprisingly none threatening. Margaret, on the other hand, could barely keep her heart in her chest and the vomit down her throat. She wanted to pass out, she needed to pass out. She'd been in the cafeteria the day Stronghold's powers had hit him. Warren's fire attack was nothing to sneeze at, not to mention his incessancy at vanquishing a foe. Even though there was no animosity between them, Margaret doubted he even knew her name, she knew that was a zero, and that zero were eliminated by heroes, the end. It was his job to be better than her, stronger than her, faster than her-

Boomer's whistle blew.

Immediately students started circling each other, a la' wrestling, every now and then taking a swipe at their opposites head or thighs. Warren, however, wasted no time. Quickly, smoothly, he went in. A quickly kick to the back of her legs sent her to her knees with a painful thud. Margaret winced and bent over to feel for shattered cartilage when a punch came right up her nose. She let out a muffled cry as she flew backwards, hitting another attackee who, angrily, lightly kicked her in the side back towards Warren and went to deal with his own onslaught. All about the gym, students were flying, tumbling, grappling and yelling at each other. Boomer was weaving in between them all, clipboard in hand making notes and yelling out directions. Margaret's nose was throbbing under the pressure of her thumb and forefinger's pinch. She could taste blood trickling down onto her top lip and her entire sinus cavity was in pain. She pulled her hand away and her palm was covered in blood. She felt the chunks start to rise and jerked onto her knees, hoping she could make a mad dash to the bathroom and escape the humiliation of yakking in front of her entire class. She soon realized that she would not be able to escape from Warren. His fists were clenched by his sides and she looked up in time to see them ignite, flames engulfing his arms up to the elbow. Margaret's nausea quickly disappeared and was replaced by her heart once more trying to escape. He was getting closer and closer. Margaret could make out a sneer on his face which was blurred in the rush of the heat.

Margaret was going to die. She could feel it. Warren was closing in, she could feel the heat from his arms prickling at her eyes, making them tear, and the ends of her braids were starting to smoke and singe. Warren was right on top of her, his arm raised and a softball sized flame coiling in his open palm. He held it like a rotten orange and quickly brought it down towards her waiting, unprotected head. Margaret quickly curled into a ball, her arms over her head. She was crying, large hot tears easily flowing down her cheeks. She seriously hadn't expected to die her first day back. Her body shuddered as she loudly sobbed and did what anyone else might do.

"No!"

The sound that came from her seemed to last for a long time. It was a choked sound, mixed with a half expressed sob and still so many tears. When the sound finally died, she realized that there was an uncanny silence in around her, like she had cotton stuck in her ears. She wondered briefly if she was dead and if this was what the afterlife felt like. She slowly lowered her arms, aching and stiff from her late attack and looked up. She was still in the gym- damn- but everyone around her wasn't moving. All of their feet were still and pointed towards her. She looked up even further and saw Warren's hand, still aflame, poised directly over her scalp. She yelped and backpedaled, knocking into the same student she had before, who didn't move but stared down at her with wide eyes.

"Allen, what the heck did you do?" Droned Boomer sounding more annoyed than anything else. Margaret joined the rest of the class in staring, dumbfounded at a stunned Warren who seemed to be frozen. His arm hovered in space just where her head had been, his forearms still burning, an angry yell frozen on his face. Slowly Margaret managed to stand, her jaw wide and her hand back on her still bleeding nose. She walked towards him carefully, the other students and Boomer keeping an easy distance from the pair. She reached out with her free hand and poked at him. She quickly pulled her hand back, the flames burning her wrist which quickly turned red and started to rash. She moved behind him and gave his ponytail a safe push. Nothing, no swaying, no movement at all. It was like touching a stone, though Margaret thought that stones couldn't possibly have such soft hair-

Warren's flames spurted a bit and then his whole body lurched forward, continuing the move he had been prepping for. The fireball landed on the space of court that Margaret had been crouched upon and hit with a sparking burst, causing a few students near to back away with gasps and shrieks and the floorboards to splinter and smolder. Warren stumbled a few steps and looked back at the smoking crater obviously confused. He looked up and saw Margaret, blood covering half of her face and tears streaking through the red, causing it to mix and trail down her neck, staining her gym shirt. He paused for a moment and Margaret saw his face soften for just an instant. Then it hardened with resolve once more and he lit up another fireball. Margaret's eyes' widened and she took a step back, her arms flying out in front of her as though to ward him off.

"No!" She cried, quickly this time, more of an exasperated yelp than before. Warren shuddered and stopped in his tracks for a moment, as though someone had paused him for just a second, then he reanimated and slowed to a stop, a slightly confused and partly intrigued look on his face. He stood there, staring at Margaret for a moment, the fireball still in his hands when the bell rang. The class paused for a moment as if not quite sure what to do, then cautiously shuffled off to the locker rooms. Warren and Margaret stood there, her arms still outstretched and him still eying her warily. Boomer snapped them both back to reality.

"Showers, both of you. Allen, get cleaned up and go to the nurse. Then I want to see the two of you in Principle Powers office, GO!" He boomed, making the teens' hair ruffle in the aftershock. Margaret lowered her arms and her eyes and awkwardly shuffled off towards the girls showers. Warren watched her for a moment more then pulled his hair down and shook it in front of his face, his usual sourness returning under the safety of his hair.


	2. Power Replacement

AN: Thanks for the reviews! I'm so pleased… so soon! So, just 'cause y'all have been good sports and have stroked my ego sufficiently…

Oh, and Spoongirl1, how's my spacing on this?

Power Replacement

Margaret's leg was shaking badly making the heel of her sneakers tap the carpet in Principle Powers office like a telegraph machine. She'd never been in the office before and had seen Mrs. Powers only at official functions. She swallowed, which somehow upset the bandage across the bridge of her quickly bruising nose. She winced and made a move to touch it, but was painfully aware that Warren was sitting next to her, not moving, not looking at her, slumped in his seat and quiet. She put her hand back in her lap and looked at Principle Powers who was sitting patiently listening to Boomer's loud replay of Warren and Margaret's match of Sudden Death.

"Interesting." She murmured once he had finished. He turned to look at Margaret, which came across as a scowl and she felt her heart lurch. She knew it, she was in trouble, she would be expelled or sued, or-

"Allen, after your little show today we've decided to put you through power replacement." Margaret looked at Boomer, waiting for the next blow, but he just stood there like a colossus with his arms crossed over his thick chest.

"I'm sorry," She squeaked, taking her plea to Principle Powers. "What does that mean, power replacement?"

"It means," She answered, standing up and walking around her desk, a thick sheet of paper in her hand, "That you've a new schedule and new classmates waiting for you." She finished with a smile.

Margaret took the paper from her perfectly manicured hand and saw her name printed at the top with four bold letters underneath.

HERO.

Margaret sputtered and started to laugh, which she quickly stopped at the onslaught of fresh nose pain. She looked from Principle Powers to Boomer but neither of them seemed to be laughing. They weren't joking. Margaret's heart stopped for a full ten seconds before she flushed a violent red and started coughing.

"What? I can't be a hero…" She managed as the coughing subsided and her breathing calmed to a frenzy instead of maniacal panic. 'I've been a sidekick all of my life. I can't fight, I can't take control of situations, I can't _save_ people!"

"Well, it's about time you learned, Miss Allen." Principle Powers smiled. Margaret looked to Coach Boomer, who didn't look quite as sure as his boss.

"Coach Boomer, you know me. You know that I can't do anything! You said so yourself!"

Boomer took an intimidating step forward and uncrossed his arms, which hovered in a bulky way by his sides. "Never, in all my years of Coaching, have I had a _whiner baby_ whine about being a HERO!" He suddenly boomed, making Margaret and Warren's chairs tip back onto the back legs.

"That's enough Boomer. You might want to see to your class." Powers warned politely, waving a hand for the Coach to step down. Boomer nodded and sharply donned his sunglasses. He looked from Margaret to Warren and then quickly left the room, slamming the door behind him. Principle Powers jumped a bit, then smiled warmly at the pair.

"Now, I understand that this year wont be a cakewalk for you, Miss Allen, which is why I've decided, and Coach Boomer agrees, that you need a senior hero to act as a mentor." And with that, she gave Warren a pointed look and a smile.

"No!" They both yelled, then looked at each other, then repeated their pleas to Ms. Powers.

"Principle Powers, please, not him!"

"Oh thanks a lot. You think I really want to baby sit you all year?"

"He'll kill me."

"I wish."

"That's enough, the both of you." Powers raised her voice and the pair fell silent.

"Here at Sky High we aim to cultivate your individual powers to help you become the finest super that you can be. Miss Allen, you need help realizing your power. Mr. Peace, you need help realizing your humanity. I think the two of you will be able to help each other along in the final stages or your journey."

"But Principle Powers-"

A sharp ringing sound cut in.

"Ah, there's the bell. You two'd best go and eat lunch. And Mr. Peace, I hope this is the last time I'll see you in my office." She moved back behind her desk and sat, quickly busying herself with papers stacked neatly in front of her. Margaret opened her mouth to speak, but Warren grabbed her by the crook of her elbow and dragged her out of the office behind him. She thankfully had the presence of mind to grab her bag as he yanked her along, closing the door with a quick click as they left.

'Look, there's no arguing with her, trust me." He said quietly, slinging his leather satchel across his body and shaking his hair back from his face. The two stood there staring at each other for a moment, Margaret not really knowing what to say and Warren not really wanting to say anything. Instead he jerked his head towards the double doors that lead out of the front office and towards the main hall. Margaret quickly gathered herself and donned her own bag, following his long easy strides with her own uncertain, jerky skips.


	3. Sirens and Other Warning Bells

AN: So, I was working on this chapter earlier this afternoon when the power went out and I lost what I had. So, I went to Wal-Mart and bought the Sky High soundtrack, which I recommend. Besides having fabu punk covers of 80's classics, it also includes a song sung by Steven Strait, Warren Peace himself. So, for any other Warren lovers out there, buy it and enjoy!

And as for the story, I plan on updating chapters everyday, so please stick with me, dear readers, your wonderful reviews are what's keeping me going!

Sirens and Other Warnings

Layla couldn't stop smiling.

The cafeteria was buzzing with students and the smell of fresh canned peaches. Freshmen were grouping off into heroes and sidekicks and explaining their powers to upperclassmen. Will was busy stuffing his face with a hero sub, stray bits of lettuce dropping down onto his unsuspecting jeans- so busy he didn't see Warren slide onto the bench opposite the junior couple, swinging his bag off and tossing it next to him with a noisy crash.

It wasn't unusual for Warren to eat with them, every once in a while he craved company. Albeit it was once in a blue moon and usually when he wanted something, but Will rather liked having him around. What was unusual was his bringing a girl along with him- anywhere, let alone to join Stronghold's crew for a public lunch. But, there she was, slamming onto the bench next to Warren, her bag slumping to the floor and sending a bunch of fresh ink pens rolling about Layla's sandaled feet. Warren looked at her apologetically while Margaret ducked under the table, noisily collecting her things.

Layla just smiled.

"She's a nightmare." Maj droned, pushing peaches about her tray with her fork, staring at the space Margaret used to occupy before her deep-under table dive. Layla put a finger to her lips and shushed the sardonic girl, who rolled her eyes and continued torturing her peaches.

"Margaret, right?" Layla asked rather chipperly once the girl resurfaced, most of her hair pulled messily out of her braids. Warren rolled his eyes and pulled a copy of _Titus Andronicus_ out of his back, flipped open to a dog eared page and hoped the bell would ring sooner rather than later.

"She's my new best friend. Principle Powers' orders."

"Not really," She said throwing him a cautious look. "I've just been power replaced and-"

"Power replaced?" Will asked now interested. The crusted remains of his sub lay before him on his otherwise empty tray. With no more food available he was ready to be social.

"Yea. I'm a hero now. I guess. Or a heroine? I'm not too sure-"

"Sound familiar?" Layla asked, playfully elbowing Will in the ribs. He shouldered her back and the two started a cute shoving match. Margaret looked at the pair not really knowing what to make of it.

"They'll be done in a minute." Warren droned from behind his book. Margaret looked at the cover of his book and scrunched her face in confusion.

"You read? I mean, you read Shakespeare?" She quickly added as Warren angrily put the book down.

"Yes I read. Listen sidekick you're walking a thin line-"

"Hero." She corrected him, her voice cracking a bit as she did. She recognized that look in his eyes, it was the same she'd seen in the gym before he lit up and attacked her. Well, almost attacked her. After all, she'd stopped him, hadn't she? Not many students could boast that, only her and Will Stronghold. She looked over at the young hero who had stopped playing cutesy-push in lieu of letting Layla rest her head on his rather broad shoulder. Oh, how quickly they grow.

"So why'd they change you up? Did you save a school bus or something?" Will asked, his arm suavely snaking around Layla's shoulder.

"No. I froze Warren."

Will and Layla both snapped to attention. Even Maj stopped playing with her food long enough to stare at her, wide-eyed.

"Wow." Maj said, honestly shocked. "I guess there's more to you than meets the eye."

"You froze Warren?" Layla repeated, giving the dark young man a disbelieving look. He shrugged and picked up his copy of _Titus_ once more, brushing some stray lettuce off the cover. "What is it about you," Layla continued, sitting up straight and popping a grape into her mouth, "That makes the powerless suddenly powerful?"

"Just lucky, I guess." He answered and turned a page.

"So, how exactly did you freeze him?" Will asked, his own arm back by his side and busy with cleaning up his mess of lettuce. "Does it shoot out of your hands, like Anna?" He looked over Margaret's shoulder at a tall blonde girl with horn rimmed glasses who was lazily making an ice sculpture of the sphinx on her lunch tray.

"No. I did it with my voice."

"Really? Like Boomer?"

"No, I'm nothing like Uncle Boomer-" She stopped and took in a huge gasp, her eyes grown as wide as saucers and clapped her hands over her mouth. Maj dropped her fork with a clink and a small spray of peach juice. Layla started choking on her grape and Will hastily patted her back, her breath slowly returning. Warren slowly lowered his book and stared at her, though she couldn't make out his expression.

"Coach Boomer's your Uncle?" He asked, his tone becoming sharp. Margaret swallowed and nodded, finishing with a sheepish little laugh.

"Please don't say anything. I wasn't supposed to, but it slipped."

"Why is it such a secret?" Maj asked, then her eyes widened. "You're not a surprise lovechild, are you? Born of a sudden night of passion and a desperate family secret?" Maj's eyes were sparkling and there was a strangely teeny-bopper smile on her face.

"No. My mom married an accountant."

"Oh." Maj looked terribly disappointed and everyone else looked thoroughly confused.

"So, vocal manipulation runs in your family? Grape?"

"Yea, I guess. Uncle Boomer, mom's the Siren-"

"You're mom's the Siren?" Will all but exploded. "She's so hot!" Which earned a prompt and sincere smack from Layla. "What, she is! She can make anyone do what she wants just by speaking to them, right?"

"Just like the monsters from Greek mythology, how charming." Warren turned another page.

"At least her father's not a super villain." Maj added. Warren looked at her and Margaret saw his fingers start to grow blurry with an increase of heat and the paperback in his hands start to curl and smolder. She reached out and placed her hand on his forearm, whispering thickly, "Don't." Immediately his fingers calmed and the heat haze about them faded away. He jerked his arm from her touch and bolted off the bench.

He quickly grabbed his satchel and leaned over her shoulder. She could feel his hair tickling her cheek and realized how warm she was. She wondered if it was because he was so near? "Good thing you're not manipulative like your mom." He whispered harshly. She could feel his breath, hot against her ear. She shuddered, goose bumps springing up all over her arms and she almost choked on the smell of him, leather and sweat.

Then he was gone. She could feel the cold swoop of air conditioning hit her flushed face and neck as he disappeared, lumbering out of the lunch room. So far, her first day as a hero was going terribly well.

Layla looked at Margaret sympathetically and patted her hand in a maternal way that annoyed the unsung heroine. "He's testy. Give him some space and he'll calm down. Trust me."

The bell rang and the entire cafeteria rose to it's feet, sluggishly repacking bags and finishing last minute sandwiches. Margaret rose and carefully grabbed her bag, making sure that everything was closed and zipped. Her new schedule indicated a final elective period with Mr. Hammer, the hard as nails English teach who was responsible for some of the most famous hero taglines in Maxville's history. The last thing she wanted was to wipe out, in her typical fashion, at her first official hero class.

Then she spotted it, Warren's abandoned copy of _Titus._ She quickly grabbed it and placed it in her bag, making sure the old, yellowed copy was safe in between "Mad Biology and You!" and her discarded gym clothes.

"Hey," Layla's kind ring pulled Margaret's attention from the inside of her bag and back to the perfect couple across the table. "Do you wanna have dinner at my place some time this week? How does Friday sound?"

"Are you serious?" Margaret almost stopped breathing. Never, in her entire high school career, had anyone asked her over. She'd also never eaten lunch with anyone, and Margaret was having trouble believing her luck.

"Yea, it'd be fun."

"I hope you like tofu." Will sing-songed warningly. Layla elbowed him again then flashed Margaret her winning smile. "I'll see you Friday then. Good luck with the flame thrower." Layla offered her a small wink then hustled out, hand in hand, with Will. Margaret watched them leave, dumbfounded, then trotted off to English, her whole body feeling a bit numb and her head spinning with the day that didn't look like it was ending anytime soon.


	4. East Bridge

AN: So, for those who read and somewhat enjoyed "Layla" I am planning a Layla/Warren piece. I tried starting it last night but it just wasn't working, so once this one's done I'll start looking at starting the next. I'm not so good at juggling multiple stories, it would seem. Until then, enjoy!

East Bridge

The world always seemed uglier after school, Margaret thought. Compared to the pristine cleanliness of the floating school, the world below seemed dirtier, grittier. Or maybe that was just East Bridge.

The bus rumbled a bit at it crossed onto the Pawnee River Bridge, the sound of rubber on decades-old iron quickly replacing that of tires over asphalt. The Pawnee River split Maxville in two. The major businesses were on West Bridge, and the rest of the city lived on East Bridge, commuting over the slightly oxidized bridge Monday through Friday, nine to five. Margaret's own house was further inland, heading more towards the hills that marked the city limits. Nothing but fresh open land and grass and cows.

The banks of East Bridge, however, were full of warehouses, dark alleys and seedy clubs that spewed sax-heavy jazz music until sunrise. The banks were a breeding ground for Maxville villains, with underground casinos and ill-lit bars lining the always dark streets. It was also where the Paper Lantern could be found.

The copy of _Titus_ was resting carefully on the seat next to her. She'd found a faded address on the inside cover with the instructions, "If lost, please return to-" and the initials B.B signed at the bottom. Once she'd discovered the book had once been the Baron's, she handled it with kid gloves, not wanting to be the poor soul that destroyed one of Warren's father's belongings. She wasn't that stupid.

The smell of charcoal and burning meat hit her as soon as the bus crossed onto the banks. The sun was just setting and the dimly burning street lamps of East Bridge were starting to glow. The bus pulled to a stop and a few careworn people staggered off, their dirty clothes pulled close about their thin bodies. Margaret stood too, gathering the book and holding it close against her body as she exited, not looking at anyone as she did. The bus doors shut behind her with a squeak and the bus pulled away, a thick cloud of exhaust trailing behind it.

Margaret looked around. There didn't seem to be any street signs- after all the banks were for the directionless- and Margaret was starting to get scared. There was a warm yellow light glowing towards the edge of the banks and she could almost make out small red lanterns decorating the front. She sighed with relief. After all, how many Chinese restaurants could there be in the banks?

A cool breeze was blowing off the river and Margaret could make out the scent ofsalt water. She could remember going fishing with her dad when she was younger and her mother would be out on a call. She was never very good at it and always got the line hopelessly tangled whichwould meanit was time to pack up the tackle box andgo to the Catfish Place near the West Bridge docks to pick up some fried fish and hushpuppies.

As she neared the Lantern she could smell the food. Her father would sometimes pick up Chinese on his way home from work and Margaret wondered if he got it from here. The smells were the same, but she wondered if all egg rolls had a standard scent. The restaurant was lit up like a beacon at the edge of the banks, drawing the hungry to it like a savory haven, the gateway between the banks and the civilized world. Margaret's stomach growled a bit and she reminded herself that this was just a delivery job, drop off the book and leave.

She reached the doors and pulled. The warmth and smell of the place almost knocked her over as it invited her in. Small paper lanterns were draped across the walls shedding multicolored glows about the room. The place was all but full, couples and parties pleasantly eating while a tall, older man with crazy sprigs of gray hair bustled about in his black and whites, four plates gracefully balanced on his arm.

"Table for one?"

"Oh, no I'm not eating, I just dropped by to return this-"

"Oh my heavens!" The small hostess cried, her eyes crinkling as she smiled. "You're Janice's daughter, aren't you? Janice Boomowski?"

Margaret was stunned. "Um, yea. Yes, yes I am. Do you know her?"

"Oh yes, we went to the high together- you there too?" She asked cautiously.

"Yes, yes I am."

"Oh, good." She clapped her hands together. "Here, sit down, let me get you something to eat-" she took Margaret by her arm and led her to a clean booth near a blinded window and sat her down. "I'll be back with some soup. You like wonton?" Margaret nodded and the woman smiled again and scurried off to through a pair of swinging, black doors in the back.

Margaret looked about the table for lack of anything else to do. The place mat was standard with signs of the Chinese zodiac dancing about the edges with an explanation of each clustered in the middle. According to her sign she was a dragon, which never made sense to her. If anything she should be a rabbit, or a rat, or a dust mite if that was available.

The small woman soon reappeared, a steaming bowl in her hands. She placed it before Margaret and then slid onto the seat across from her. Margaret nodded her thanks and quickly started spooning the broth in, carefully blowing on it first.

"You look just like her." The hostess mused from across the table. Margaret smiled. She didn't really know what else to do. Her mother was a subject that made her a bit uncomfortable. As Siren, Janice Allen was the sexiest super hero ever to roam the streets of Maxville. She was all vamp and pin-up made flesh with a voice to die for- and several of her foes had. It was never said by either of her parents that she had to fill her mother's stilettos, but the unspoken pressure was on for Margaret to grow up and fill out and start knockin' 'em dead. Margaret spooned a dumpling in her mouth and chewed on it quietly.

"She used to be so quiet in school, never said a word." The older woman continued not really looking Margaret, or at anything in particular. "She used to sit by the windows and read during lunch, never spoke to anyone. And she was so good at physics!We allfigured she was a mad genius waiting to happen. Then senior year she showed up and- well, lets just say that when late bloomers get to blooming they don't waste any time!" She laughed and wiped something Margaret couldn't see off the table with her towel.

'I just came by to drop this off-" Margaret put her spoon down and picked up the copy of _Titus Andronicus_ that was laying next to her. The time for reminiscing was done.

"Oh, that'll be Warren's." The woman replied, taking if from Margaret with a slightly wrinkled hand.

"Does he work here?" Margaret had suspected that he lived in one of the apartments above the restaurant, or that his father's old gang reconnoitered in the back room amongst the deliveries of squid and onion.

"Yes. He's out making deliveries right now. He'll be back any minute if you'd like to wait-"

"No, I really should be getting home. Thank you for the soup." She stood up, stealthily slipping a five and two one's under the soup bowl. The woman got up as well and bowed. Margaret gave her a small smile and a nod and left.

The night had quickly set in while Margaret was in the restaurant. The cool breeze from the river was now a cold wind. Margaret shivered and shoved her hands deep in her pockets. The buses stopped running in the banks after sunset- too many attacks- and she doubted she had enough cash on her for a cab. The streets were almost all uphill out of the banks and Margaret was the only person around, her labored breath creating small puffs that disappeared just as quickly.

She wondered if _Titus_ was Warren's favorite book. It made sense, a slighted war hero who seeks bloody and senseless revenge- that had Warren's name all over it. A tin can rattled in a nearby alley and Margaret turned her head sharply to search for the source but saw nothing in the darkness that surrounded her. The main street was dimly lit by sputtering street lights and Margaret found herself quickly scurrying from one thin patch of light to the next, nervousness starting to set in.

She heard footsteps behind her and quickened her pace a bit. Part of her hated that she distrusted the world so much, assuming that anyone walking about after dark was a serial rapist or murderer looking for a fix. Perhaps it was another kid trying to get home, like herself. But the sensible part of her that was taking control of her legs didn't let her turn around to see.

"Hero?"

Margaret squeezed her eyes shut. She knew that voice. She slowly turned around and smiled shyly at him. His hair was pulled back out of his face, a few whisps laying against his cheek.

"What are you doing out here alone? You want to get attacked?" He scolded her quietly like her father had when she was younger.

"I was on my way home."

"You're a long way from home, Hero."

"I just dropped off your book, thought you'd want it back." She pointed over his shoulder back towards the Paper Lantern.Warren's face softened a bit and he thought for a minute.

"You hungry?" He managed finally, looking tired and a few years older in the moonlight.

"I had some soup."

Warren smiled and shook his head. Margaret suddenly didn't know quite where she was.

"I see you met Mom."

_That _was Warren Peace's mother? The woman who had helped the Commander to put Barron Battle away? The woman who had married Battle in the first place?

"Come on. I have a delivery up in the hills, then I'll take you home, okay?" Margaret nodded, not knowing what else to do. She was a fan of the known and constant universe and everything in it's proper place. For the past twelve hours her world had been nothing but tumbled, up-heaved and now Warren was takingher home. She kept her eyes desperately on Warren's back, his form the only thing that made sense to her at that point.


	5. The Sage in the Trans AM

AN: Just got back from seeing Sky High… again… and I'm ready for more writing. Hopefully all will be revealed… well, some will be revealed…I hope. This is for Jordan.

Oh, and if any of this sounds a little Zach-bashy, please know that I love all of my Sky High kids.

The Sage in the Trans AM

Warren's Trans Am smelt of Chinese food. The AC was busted- which didn't really surprise Margaret- so they drove with the windows down, which was convenient since the passenger side window hadn't been there since he bought it. The breeze was cool outside the car and the muted lights of suburbia floated by like fireflies in the distance. It was almost nice, it was almost a scene from one of her romantic daydreams, if it had been anyone but Warren Peace next to her.

He kept his eyes on the road, the wind barely rustling his hair which was still pulled back. The moonlight was playing across his features, making them look more angular, more sinister. He reminded her of his father, of newspaper clippings she'd seen of him when she was younger. No matter what else she could say of him, Warren was an imposing young man.

She was scrunched up in her seat, her arm and thigh pressed so closely to the door she was afraid she might fall out. Every muscle in her body was tense with the closeness of the man who'd almost killed her in gym. Was this really what is was to be a super hero? Near death experiences and then car rides with your enemies later that day? Forget it.

But Warren wasn't her enemy. No one was ever officially a villain until after high school. Even the Baron had played it cool until he left Sky High. According to Principle Powers, the two of them were partners now until graduation. Margaret saw her year looming ahead of her, just so many days like this one- bloody and disappointing. She grumbled a little bit and sunk down in her seat, leaning her forehead against the door frame.

And what was it she was supposed to do, teach him humanity? Margaret couldn't even talk to Zach, Maj's lite-brite of a boyfriend from the junior class. How was she supposed to teach him how to be human when she was doing such a lousy job of it herself?

She looked over at him. He was still watching the road.

He looked so different with his hair away from his face. In school all she could ever really make out were his eyes, thin slits that burned almost every time he talked to her. Now she could see more to him, how his throat arched so well into his chin, his skin smooth and tan- even in the milky pale of moonlight- and his lips, round and-

Margaret sat up quickly and blinked. These were NOT things she should be thinking, not things she should be noticing. She decided to focus her thoughts on the creature that had stood over her, flame in hand, ready to do her in, the monster that had nearly killed her- the hero that had helped her realize her powers…

"Can I ask you something?" She asked, her voice sounding dull and muted in the pristine silence of the car.

Warren didn't answer, and she didn't really care.

"Why are you doing this?"

She saw his lips purse slightly and his forehead wrinkle a bit in thought. "You see, when I push down on the long one, the car goes faster-"

"Why are you taking me home?"

"Was there somewhere else you wanted to go, Hero?"

"See, that's what I mean. You haven't once called me Margaret, you're always acting like you'd rather be skinned alive than be seen with me, and then you creep up behind me in a deserted alley and offer me a ride home?"

Warren was silent for a moment but she couldn't read his profile, which was all he was offering her of his face.

"I'm not good with people." He finally said, rather quietly. Margaret just stared at his ear. "And you said you didn't like Margaret."

"When did I say that?"

"Freshmen year, power placement. Boomer called you up, _Uncle_ Boomer," he corrected himself, somewhat sardonically. "And you said that you didn't like being called Margaret."

Now it was her turn to stare safely at the road. "You remembered that?" Warren nodded. She wasn't sure whether to be impressed or embarrassed. She wasn't sure of what to say or think, and found a familiar ball of confusion tightening in her stomach every time she was around Warren. Everything inside of her seemed to be in dizzying motion and there he was, calmly sitting next to her, driving, not a hint of life beneath that perfect skin of his. It was enough to make her want to scream.

"Look, I'm not happy about this situation either. You weren't exactly my first choice for a partner. But the way I see it, we might as well make the best of a bad situation."

Warren didn't move.

"But what is Principle Powers on about?" She exploded, exacerbated. "I'm supposed to teach you how to be human? That's like teaching a monkey to write Hamlet."

"Hey!" He snapped, shooting her an angry look which was all the more violent without his hair to ease the sharpness. Margaret was too busy to notice.

"And you can't help me with my powers! You don't know what my powers are!" She paused for a moment then, quietly, "I don't even know what my powers are."

"Well, think," he said calmly, though his voice was still a bit gruff, "What was going through your head this morning?"

"This morning?"

"In gym."

"Oh, when I froze you-" Warren let out a long snort. Clearly he was still unhappy about the whole idea of him being frozen, let alone by a girl, let alone by her.

Margaret thought back to that morning, replaying the incident with details. Her stomach started growing queasy at the memory- her being partnered with Warren, Warren dropping her to knees, her nose cracking under Warren's knuckles, Warren's arms igniting and hovering over her ready to strike-

"No!" She cried out, curling up in her seat as the memory of Warren grew nearer. Instantly the car broke, stalled and stopped, the engine coughing a few times before settling into silence. Warren jerked forward at the sudden stop, most of his hair falling out of his ponytail. Margaret was shaken out of her memory and realized that they'd stopped and it quickly dawned on her why.

"Sorry."

"You got to get that fixed, Hero." He said, pulling the tie from the rest of his hair and then gathering his mane back away from his face. "What brought that on?" He turned the key and let out a small, relieved sigh when the car started up.

"I was thinking about this morning."

"Okay, and…"

She mumbled something then turned her head towards the door, the wind blowing her hair out of her face.

"I'm a flame thrower, not a mind reader. What was that?"

"I was afraid I was going to die." She said clearly, a little annoyed. She hated admitting that to him, though she doubted anyone would blame her. Warren's black-leathered figure in the halls made even the bravest of upperclassmen tremble and move out of his way. He was feared and respected by everyone of the students. They'd all have felt the same thing if they had been in her shoes, facing the other end of a fireball- so why was it so hard to let him know?

"What about the cafeteria?"

"I thought you were going to kill Maj."

He snorted. "Why?"

"She mentioned your dad. The last time someone did that, you and Will nearly destroyed the cafeteria."

"So you thought I was going to roast her right then and there?"

Margaret was quiet. When he put it like that it did sound a little far fetched. There was a reason to toast Will; Maj was just blunt. She was starting to understand that Warren didn't do anything without a reason, that all of his actions were a result of careful thought and consideration. That's why his jaw's so tight, she thought, looking over at his face, his jaw line rigid and sharp. There was so much he was keeping in, that he was biting down on and she wondered what could possibly bother a guy like Warren Peace.

"Most powers are triggered by intense emotional stress." he said finally. "That's probably what happens to you."

"Emotional stress?" She scoffed, though it did make sense. This morning under the heart of Warren's attack, was the most alive she'd felt in years. Blood seemed to be pumping to every miniscule part of her body and something switched on inside of her. She could still feel it, like a small ball floating in her stomach, the same ball that tensed whenever Warren was angry with her, which was starting to become regular.

"What triggered your powers then?"

Warren slammed on the brakes and Margaret almost flew into the windshield.

"What the-"

"Home." he all but barked, putting the car in park.

Margaret looked out the lack-of-window and there was her house, a green and white farm rising out of a winding, red dirt driveway. Warren had stopped just shy of their mailbox with "Allen" painted in large black letters along the side.

"How do you know I live here?" _Was_ he a mind reader?

"Your dad orders a lot of sweet and sour pork." He said simply.

"Thanks for the ride." She felt embarrassed and small. She opened the door and got out, jerkily closing it behind her. Warren was staring at her from behind the wheel, his long body laying easily against the cracking leather seats. She couldn't move under those eyes. She wasn't sure if he wanted to say something or drive over her toes, either was plausible from him.

He looked so sad, she realized. He looked suddenly like a lost little boy and it almost broke her heart. Something thick caught in her throat and she sputtered.

"Warren-"

He shuddered, as though someone as suddenly stuck him in ice. His eyes widened and then he really looked at her. Margaret wasn't exactly sure what had happened. She turned to leave but heard his door open and a thick boot hit the gravel road. She turned around just in time to catch a fortune cookie before it ht her in the nose. Warren was grinning wanly at her, one side of his mouth tugging upward slightly. He gave her a short nod and got back into the car, quickly putting it in gear and speeding away, gravel grinding under his tires.

Margaret stared at his tail lights until they faded into the road ahead. She unwrapped her cookie and broke it open, always reading the fortune before she ate. The small strip of paper was bent and a little crumby from the cookie, but it's text was clear-

"Sometimes heroes cannot save themselves."

Margaret stared at it for a moment and snorted before shoving the paper in the back pocket of her jeans and stuffing half of the cookie into her mouth.


	6. Do You Have a Date for Homecoming?

AN: I'm sorry this is so late. I have a lot of good reasons why it is so, but I know that you don't really care. The point is that I have more, and here it is. Enjoy and expect more soon.

Do You Have a Date for Homecoming?

A bleak October rain streaked down the windows of the mad science lab and clouded the grey world from view. Margaret was sitting with her head in her hands gazing at the fogged glass, completely missing Prof. Medulla's instructions on how to dismantled an atomic bomb. The bell shook her out of her stupor and brought her attention to the blank notebook before her that should've been filled with exam-saving notes. She frowned and gathered her things, the lab quickly emptying into the hall.

The chilled weather had brought with it a change in wardrobe for most students, long sleeves and fuzzy sweaters. It also brought with it plans for Homecoming, which was only a week away. Banners and posters reminding students to attend- and not to bring a super villain as a date- were wallpapering the school.

Margaret found Will and Layla sitting outside on the stone wall that surrounded the floating institution waiting for the bus.

"Hey." She called as she neared. The pair looked up from their handholding and waved, each of them smiling.

"Buses are running late," Will explained. Margaret mouthed an "Oh" and plopped down on the grass next to them.

"How was gym?" Layla asked. Margaret shrugged in response and pulled at a blade of grass. It had gone badly. Coach Boomer had put them through timed obstacle courses. They had to duck, dive, sprint, and leap to get to a dummy citizen held hostage at the middle of the maze, all the while dodging falling cars, bolts of electricity and extreme changes in the weather. The maze was standard for senior heroes and most of the students made it through with little difficulty.

Except for Margaret. She was in perfect condition for a sidekick, which meant she was way below the physical bar for a hero. She had barely made it through the set of greased- tires before she tripped up and Boomer had to eliminate her. One long whistle blast and the girl was sent to the showers- thankfully. Her legs were still sore.

"Hey." Maj called as she hopped onto the ledge next to Layla. Zach came skidding after her.

"Hey kid, Layla." He said as he raised his chin in salute. "How ya doin', Boomer Junior?" Margaret laughed and looked menacingly, though mockingly, over her shoulder. "Heard you got mulched in PE." He said.

"Yup, it was handed to me on a plate." She said with mock cheeriness. She pulled her legs into her chest and wrapped a bangled arm around her knees.

For the past three years of her life she'd been a sidekick and she'd secretly done as all sidekicks before her had, envied and despised the heroes. They got special treatment, different training. Now that she was on the other side of the fence, she found that there was a price for power. Now she found herself secretly doing what all heroes before her had done, wishing that she was a sidekick.

"Ooo," Layla squealed, leaning over to examine Margaret's arm, "I love your bracelet. Where'd you get it?"

"Mom."

"It's the same colour as my Homecoming dress."

Will rolled his eyes. "Here we go."

"You can borrow it if you want." Margaret said as she slid the bangle off her wrist and dangled it enticingly before the redhead.

"Really?"

"Sure. I'm not going to use it."

"What colour's your dress?" Layla asked as she swooped up the bracelet and slipped it onto her own wrist.

"I'm not going."

"You're not going?" Maj echoed. Margaret shook her head.

"But it's your last Homecoming." Layla added. She wasn't much for conforming to school social rules, but she'd heard stories of women who'd skipped their senior dances and had gone insane because of it. Better safe than sorry.

"I don't have anyone to go with." Margaret pulled a blade of grass up and started blowing through it, making a dull whistling sound.

"You can go with us." Layla chirped. Will looked at her, his eyebrows quirked. "I mean with all of us. As a group."

Maj and Margaret both looked at Layla for a moment then started to laugh.

"Waiting for the bus too?" Warren asked as he sauntered over, dropping his bag on the grass next to Margaret. "What's so funny?" He jerked his head towards Margaret who hadn't acknowledged him, she was too busy laughing.

"She doesn't have a date for Homecoming." Maj explained. Margaret sobered up and sighed, leaning her head against the wall and looking up at Warren,

"So?" He droned, dropping down next to her, his boots touching the edge of her Birkenstocks.

"Layla suggested she go with us. As a group." Warren sucked in a long breath through his teeth and winced. "See." Magenta said to Layla as though Warren's response had proven her point.

"I'm just not going."

"But you have to." Layla all but whined. "Warren, you're not going with anyone, why don't you take her?"

The pair's heads snapped towards Layla.

"What?" Margaret boomed.

"Hey, I let you decide once, _once_, who my date for Homecoming would be. You used up your get out of jail free card."

"And could we please stop talking about me like I wasn't here. I'm not a prize bull."

"You always will be in my eyes." Will jokingly winked. Margaret scowled.

"I'm not going and that's that."

"But-"

"Layla," Will took her face in his wide hands and smoothed down her neck. "She said she's not going, okay?" He ran his fingers through some of her red curls and she melted. He pulled his girlfriend into his shoulder and mouthed, "Works every time." to Margaret who smiled and leaned back against the wall.

"Wonder why the bus is so late." Zach asked nobody in particular.

"Traffic." Warren replied straight faced. Nobody laughed, they all just closed their eyes and warmed themselves in the sun, the cool breezes having stayed their blowing for the time being.

"Guys, guys-" Ethan yelled as he rushed down the stairs two at a time. The group collectively sat up and greeted the bespectacled, newly-elected president of the student body as he skidded to a halt next to Will.

"Hey popsicle, we never see you anymore, what's up-"

"You gotta go to the Principle's office."

Everyone's head snapped towards Warren.

"Hey." He warned.

"No, not him, all of you. Something's wrong."

"What is it?" Will asked, straightening up a bit.

"I can't tell you here. Please, just come with me." Will stood up and grabbed his backpack, jerking his head for the rest of them to follow. Quickly they all jumped to their feet and gathered their stuff following Ethan back into the building.

Warren sluggishly stood up and brushed the seat of his faded jeans before holding a gloved hand out to Margaret, who just stared back in return.

"You coming?"

"I didn't think I was invited."

Warren rolled his eyes and grabbed her wrist, pulling her off of the grass and onto her feet. She was surprised at how light she seemed in his hand and stumbled forward under the force of his arm, stopping inches away from his face.

"You're one of us now." He said rather quietly. They stood there for a moment, neither speaking. Margaret could feel her heart racing in her chest and she swallowed hard. She nodded in response. It was all she could think to do. More and more she found herself alternating from playful banter to not knowing what to say around Warren. She told herself that he was just an intimidating man, that it was a normal reaction that anyone might have. _It's just Warren, _she thought, _just the kid who Boomer attached you to so that you'd be a good influence on him, who keeps making guest appearances in your dreams_-

She stepped back and grabbed her bag, thankful for the space between them.

"Well," She said, slinging the bag over her head. "Let's go save something."

Warren smiled and grabbed his things, starting a jog up the front steps. Margaret stood on the lawn for a moment and watched him for a moment before following them into the school.


	7. Tut, Tut, it Looks Like Rain

AN: These next few chapters have been redone to increase your reading enjoyment. They were embarrassingly bad and I would like to thank you, my readers, who have stuck it out in the hopes that future chapters would be better. And now, the new and improved…

Tut, Tut, it Looks Like Rain

The seven of them were standing in front of the large window behind Principle Power's desk, watching with amazed faces as the sun that had been warming them on the steps outside was quickly covered with thick, black clouds that rumbled with thunder.

"That was quick." Maj quipped.

"Wasn't it raining earlier?"

"Yea…" Margaret said slowly. She remembered the fogged windows in the science lab, but the sky hadn't looked anything then like it did now. Those were cold, sleet clouds. The ones starting to circle about the school were violent and angry.

"So the weather's weird," Warren said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "So what?"

"Yea. It's probably just a hurricane." Zach shrugged.

"This isn't Florida," Ethan corrected as he adjusted his glasses nervously. "The National Weather Center has been sending us reports. The weather in Maxville's downtown area has been changing dramatically on a seven minute average rotation."

"Which means?" Will asked.

"There have been ten alternating power outages and surges in the past three hours," Principle Powers said from her perch on the edge of her desk. "The entire downtown area has been closed off and the Pawnee River Bridge has been closed. West Bridge is completely shut off."

"Why?" Margaret asked.

Principle Powers turned around and switched on a large projector screen opposite the window. A home-video of an airport security checkpoint starting playing. The picture was in black and white and of a pretty grainy quality. It showed a man in a dark business suit handing his ticket to a security officer as he passed through the metal detectors. He looked over his shoulder just before he walked through and smiled as though he knew the camera was there. Principle Powers paused the tape.

"This was taken yesterday afternoon at LAX. The security officers thought it might be suspicious and they sent it Washington who cross checked it with Interpol. We received this," She indicated an open manila folder on her desk with various forms and pictures scattered about. "Along with the tape this afternoon just after the attack on Maxville began."

"Who is that?" Will asked, staring at the still smiling man on the screen.

"King Kamaya- Mayhem."

Will scoffed and gave a short, sputtering laugh. "That's impossible. My parents destroyed him. We have his surfboard in the secret sanctum."

"Your parents destroyed his father. This is Kamaya- Mayhem's son."

"Prince Kamaya- Mayhem?" Layla asked.

"The king is dead." Ethan corrected. "Long live the king."

"He must be psychotic." Layla observed.

"He's lethal." Principle Powers added.

"He's gorgeous." Maj finished. Zach bristled slightly.

Margaret couldn't help but agree with her. The man on the screen was a giant of a man. He'd have to stoop to pass through the metal detectors and she wondered how he'd fit through with those shoulders… He was tan, even in the black and white of the security tape, and his teeth looked like bleached pearls set against that skin. She could see his hair pulled back into a long braid that his him somewhere between the shoulder blades. Truth be told, shed always liked guys with long hair. She looked over at Warren and was thankful he was too busy watching the sky to notice her staring.

"He attacked two members of personnel at LAX. One of them is on life support and not expected to make it through the night. The other died en route to the ER."

"And now he's in Maxville?" Layla asked, her voice betraying her worry.

"And I'll bet he wants revenge?" Will ventured. Principle Powers nodded.

"That's so lame. Villain's kids. Why can't these guys come up with something else to be destructive about?" Margaret saw Warren tense up slightly.

"So, what does he do, make it rain?" Zach finally asked.

"He controls the weather," Margaret answered, to everyone's surprise. "Like his dad did, right?"

"Something like that. His father controlled seismic weather-"

"Earthquakes and volcanoes and the like." Ethan explained."

"That's why he was such a good surfer." Margaret added. Warren quirked an eyebrow but said nothing.

"But it seems his son has control over atmospheric weather-"

"Rain and tornadoes." Ethan finished again. Principle Powers shot him a slightly annoyed look and the young man blushed. "Sorry." He mumbled as he adjusted his glasses.

"So he makes it rain." Zach stated, more than pleased with himself for having guessed right.

"The buses can't get to the school in these conditions." Powers explained. "We need you to go down there and stop Kamaya- Mayhem so that the students can go home. If not-"

"They'll all be stranded up here?" Zach asked, his face wide with sudden concern. There were few things in the world that really disturbed him, but forcing teenagers to stay in school well past three o'clock was one of them. "So what do we do?" He asked, a self righteous flame burning in his eyes. Maj grinned up at him.

"We wait for my parents." Will explained, leaning against the window.

Principle Powers shook her head. "They're in Kuala Lumpur. They won't be back for a while, it seems. We need you." She repeated.

"Us?" Maj asked.

"Wait," Margaret began slowly. "He's already sent two civilians to the morgue and you want _us_ to go down there and… do something to him? We're in high school. We can't even vote yet-"

"What are his weaknesses?" Layla asked, cutting her off. Margaret stammered to a halt and looked around, Even Maj was pulling out of her usually angst slump and giving her attention to the older woman in the remarkable suit.

"Not too sure. He's never attacked the mainland before and we're having trouble getting his dossier from Hawaii's 5-0."

"So we're going in blind?" Margaret asked, visibly bothered by the idea.

"Consider it field training." Principle Powers smiled and motioned to her door. Will straightened up and sighed. He started for the door when Priciple Powers stopped him.

"Mr. Stronghold, this isn't a search and destroy mission. You're only supposed to nutralize him long enough for us to remove the students. Understand?"

"What about East Bridge?" Margaret asked. "What are we supposed to do about it-"

"I understand." Will answered. He jerked his head towards the door and stalked out, the group following. Except for Margaret. She had he mouth open and ready to argue when Warren once more grabbed the crook of her elbow and yanked her out into the hall. She stumbled out of his grip and brushed him off of her, giving him the most menacing frown she could muster. Warren just moved on down the hall.

The hall ways were empty and quiet and the whole building had an eerie calm to it. Margaret got the feeling that this might be the last time she'd see the familiar lockers. She shivered.

"You cold." Warren almost asked, not looking at her as he lumbered down the hall next to her.

"No." She lied. "This just doesn't feel right."

"What doesn't?"

"Principle Powers was way too cheery to send us off."

"She's a leader, Meg." She shivered a bit at her nickname. So, he _had_ been paying attention during power placement. "Leaders can't show cracks. Look at Stronghold." He pointed to the tall back that was leading the pack of multi-coloured misfits. "He's so scared about this, but you can't tell by looking at him."

"Then how do you know?"

"I've seen him afraid before." Warren almost smiled. Margaret rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward off the fearful shakes that were coursing through her like bolts of electricity. She didn't want to get hurt, or worse, and she just knew that if anyone was going to be a casualty it was going to be her. There they were, the crew of the Star Ship Enterprise, and she was crewman number six. She was doomed.

"I can't do this." She said quietly.

"Yes you can." Warren answered back, his tone almost gentle, which startled her even more.

"I can't cut it in P.E. How am I supposed to do this?"

"I'll take care of you."

She looked at him incredulously.

"'Cause if you die, I doubt Uncle Boomer'll pass me." He finished. Margaret almost laughed. Thank god he was joking. For a moment she'd almost hoped he was serious-

The winds nearly knocked her over as she passed through the main doors. Students who were sitting on the grass and steps, waiting for the busses, were running like Dorothy against the tornado for whatever shelter they find. Margaret felt her clothes being pinned to the front of her body by the wind and her hair was sweeping backwards like a windsock- and the wind was only getting stronger.

"Alright, here's the plan." Will was shouting above the tempest. Margaret felt a large, fat rain drop fall onto her cheek and looked up. The grey clouds were starting to swirl against the green sky. Tornado weather. Margaret looked back at Will. She couldn't see any fear in him whatsoever. Even as his face contorted in the strong winds, he was nothing but sure. She hoped Warren was wrong about Will being afraid. Besides, she was scared enough for all them.

"Once we're down there we'll split up." Margaret realized he was talking to Warren, who nodded at the instructions. The two of them were like the battle-worn generals she'd done report on in her junior high history classes. There was an ease to their planning that both amazed and frightened Margaret. Did she really trust them not to pull some vain-glorious move? " I'll take Layla and Zach." Will finished.

"And Magenta." Zach added as he grabbed the shorter girl's hand. Margaret wasn't positive, but she thought she saw Maj blush.

"Okay, then you have Margaret and Ethan. Okay?" Warren nodded.

"How are we getting down there?" Margaret yelled.

"Will flies." Layla explained, finishing with a proud look at her boyfriend.

"He has only two arms. He can't carry us all down there."

Layla paused for only a second before she threw her arms out. From nowhere, it seemed, thick, green vines began to wrap themselves around the group. Zach and Margaret squealed as they were roped in like cattle around Will. Warren looked vaguely annoyed.

"Everyone just hold on." Will called over the winds as he pushed off. Margaret felt her sandals leave the ground and her stomach lurched a bit. She tightened her grip on the vine around her waist and squeezed her eyes shut. She tried to imagine herself in a calm, safe place, but all she could think of was Warren and how close he was. The fact that she could feel the sleeve of his leather jacket rubbing against her arm wasn't helping.

She was still occupied with the Warren slide show running involuntarily through her head when she felt earth under her feet again. Her face was tingling and wind blown and she could feel her hair surrounding her like an afro-halo, but she could feel that the winds had died down. She slowly opened her eyes and frowned as she looked about her.

"Well," Warren said as he freed himself of Layla's vines. "This sucks."


	8. Never Strikes Twice

Never Strikes Twice

Downtown Maxville was completely silent. The skies were dark and bleak and the multi-storied buildings of the financial district stood tall in the strange mid-day shadows like skeletons and gargoyles. The entire are looked gothic and stark- and it was still. Too still.

"Weird." Maj said simply. Everyone nodded in agreement.

"Alright, I guess we spread out." Will said, though he sounded uncertain.

"What do we do if we find him?" Warren asked, his arms crossing his strong chest.

"Keep him busy." Will guessed. "If you do come across him, let us know where you are." Will looked pointedly at the older boy's hands, and Warren nodded in understanding.

Will gave the other three a bit of a smile then started walking towards the court house, his footfall swallowed up by the almost tangible silence. Layla quickly scurried to catch up with him and Zach and Magenta followed close behind.

Warren sighed and started off in the other direction. Margaret and Ethan followed, none of them saying a word. It reminded her of a scene from some old film noir, the grey skies and the stillness- the calm before the storm. At home, in the safety of her living room and pajamas, Margaret loved moments like this, waiting for some knife-wielding crazy to jump and make the hero an offer he couldn't refuse. Living it, she found, was much different. _If this is being a super hero,_ Margaret thought, _they can keep it._

The skies lightened slightly from menacing to threatening and a light drizzle started spraying down. Warren frowned and let out an annoyed hiss as he brushed the thin rain off of his leather jacket, giving the skies a menacing look.

The drizzle thinned out until a heavy patch of moisture hung in the air. Margaret could feel it on her like she was walking through cobwebs. It clung to her eyes, her skin, she could feel it in her lungs every time she breathed. She coughed and tried to wave the mist away but it was no use.

"Margaret?" Ethan whimpered. "Where are you?"

"I'm right in front of you."

"Where?"

Margaret turned around to tell the melt-er to put his glasses on when she realised that he wasn't behind her. There was nothing behind her but fog. All around her- fog. Margaret shivered in the wet cold surrounding her.

"Ethan?" She ventured, her voice starting to shake. All she could see was the cold, bleak vapour that was beginning to clog her throat like smoke. She held her arms out and felt around like a blind girl, clawing through the grey for body she recognized.

"Warren?" Nothing came back to her. She stood very, very still, the fog closing in around her like a vice. The world was silent and she could hear her heart pounding in her ears. She was alone.

_Alright, she thought, this is no biggie. Just stay where you are and wait the fog out. It has to clear sometime. She let out a breath and nodded to herself. Yes, once she could see where she was she'd be able to figure out what to do next. She'd just have to wait. Yup._

"Warren-" She yelled again he but all she could hear was her echo bouncing off the brick walls nearby.

"Lost?"

Margaret stopped and stood very, very still. The voice came from behind her, directly behind her. She could feel the breath on her ear, warm and tingling in the cool damp of the fog. The voice was deep- obviously a man's- and it rolled like the ocean. Everything about that voice reminded her of the sea even in the way it cut, icy and threatening.

She turned her head slowly to look over her shoulder and she caught a quick flash of familiar white teeth before a pair of thick, smooth lips closed over the, and the face moved out of her line of sight. She felt him move past her, the fog swirling in his wake.

She quickly snapped her head over her other shoulder to catch the stranger as he moved past, but saw nothing. Maybe she was imagining things? She'd heard stories of soldier's cracking up under combat stress, and almost laughed at her nerve to consider _this _combat stress.

She turned back around to wait the fog out, and came almost nose to nose with King Kamaya-Mayhem.

She recognized the face from the security film in Principle Power's office. She recognized the face- tan, distinct and almost angular in the filtered light of the storm. She recognized the large, black eyes that were crinkled in a smile, and she recognized that mouth- she'd have recognized that mouth anywhere.

Margaret shivered, but it wasn't entirely from fear.

The face drew closer and she could hear the rustling of dried grass- a luau skirt, perhaps? It had been his father's preferred costume. Maybe the new king was sentimental… or psychotic. _And lethal,_ she reminded herself, but it was hard to think of someone with that smile as lethal…

A long, tan finger that almost materialized through the fog, found Margaret's cheek. It lingered there for a moment then traced down her jaw line and then to her neck, drawing dangerously close to her shirt's collar.

"Are you bait?" He asked her. She felt her heart throbbing in her throat, making it hard to swallow. She could smell the ocean on him like a heady cologne. She was getting lost in his closeness- she'd never been that close to a man before and had certainly never been touched by one.

His hand flattened against her collarbone and his felt his hand sweep around her shoulder, his thick fingers smoothing across a knot in her shoulder blades. She moaned in automatic response. The man laughed lowly, sinisterly.

"What do you think the Commander's son would do to me if he found you lying here once the fog cleared, gutted and cleaned like a trout?" The fingers on her back curled up and he dragged his fingernails across her skin. She sucked in a long breath through her teeth and tried to pull away but his other arm found her throat, locking around her voice box.

"Scared?" The man hissed. Margaret couldn't say anything. She could feel the blood pooling in her face and her voice was a tangible knot under his thumb, sputtering and trying to be heard.

"Yes you are. I can smell it on you." He leaned in and ran his nose along her jaw line. Margaret almost cried and the man laughed. She could smell him, could feel him all over her like the fog, like the ocean. He was enjoying this. She wanted to scream. "You're petrified."

Margaret shuddered and managed a strained and whispered "Yes."

She felt him shudder and let her go as though she'd shocked him. She fell to her knees and grabbed at her throat, coughing as the oxygen returned.

The fog cleared entirely in a matter of seconds. She looked up at the monolith of madness before her and caught his eyes. He was staring at her like a frightened child, like someone who saw their end staring them in the face. She recognized that look, that feeling- she'd experienced it only seconds ago under his grip.

He slowly regained his composure and she could see the shock of fear falling away from him. Replacing it was a cold, frightening stare that was aimed squarely at her.

"Well, aren't you a tricky little Siren."

Margaret's eyes widened. Did he know her mother? Was her reputation _that_ far-spread?

A flash of red caught her eye as it went sailing past her, the warmth of it heating the side of her face. It landed on Kamaya- Mayhem's arm, singeing the skin as it exploded with a small crack of flame. The broad, muscular man cried out in pain and dropped to a knee, grabbing at his smoldering arm. Margaret turned and saw Warren standing a few feet away, his arms still burning by his sides. She'd never been so glad to see anyone in her life.

"You okay?" He called as he sauntered over. Margaret nodded.

'Where's popsicle?" He asked, his brows furrowing. Margaret looked about. She couldn't see anything but the buildings, the empty streets and King Kamaya-Mayhem who was lumbering to his feet, a stony look on his face.

He caught Warren's eye and the two started staring each other down. Mayhem's face flashed for a moment with an expression Margaret couldn't place, and the sky quickly blackened. Immediately, large, fat drops started falling, quicker and quicker until the hum of rain was all that could be heard. Warren's arms' sizzled and smoked and finally extinguished in the downpour. He growled with annoyance that was quickly becoming rage.

"You." Kamaya-Mayhem sneered slowly as he took a step towards the two, still holding his blistered arm. "You don't look familiar. You can't be the Commander's boy. What's your name?"

"Peace." He sneered back.

"Peace?" Margaret could hear a smile in the man's voice. "I hate the word. As I hate hell, all heroes, and thee." He finished. Margaret swallowed hard. This wasn't going to end well.

The king growled and raised his tree-trunk thick arms above his head. The clouds rumbled and flashed and a white-hot streak of lightening flashed from the sky striking the ground just next to Warren. Margaret squealed and shied away, her forearms covering her face. The asphalt cracked and exploded, bits of it spraying up onto Warren's knees. She could see them slicing the skin made bare through the rip in his jeans. He didn't even move.

"Please, no-" Margaret called. The king looked over at her and smiled. She felt sick. That smile was still so alluring, how could that be?

Another flash of lightening touched down, this one inches away from her. The impact sent her flying, skidding across the street and crashing into the curb with a dull smacking sound._ Keep him away from Warren_, she thought. She groaned and tried to stand, but there was a sharp, stabbing pain shooting through her hands and she collapsed back onto the ground.

Kamaya- Mayhem hulked over to her prone form, the skies rumbling overhead with every step he took. He raised his arms again and Margaret wrapped her own around her head, whispering feverishly into her knees, "Please don't hurt me."

She heard the crack of thunder and even though her eyes were squeezed shut she could see the white flash surround her. She felt warm for a second and then the cold of the storm enfolded her once more. She waited for the king's blow and when it didn't come she cautiously peeked up from under her arms. The king was standing before her a thoroughly bewildered look on his face.

The sound of approaching voices pulled Margaret and Mayhem's attention to the rest of the teens, Will leading the pack. He held out his arms to stop the others behind him as he skidded to a halt. Mayhem gave Will an appraising stare and a look of cold-hearted joy spread over his face.

"Ah, the heir apparent." He cooed happily. He'd found what he'd come for.

Will wasted no time. Margaret saw him jump into the still crackling air and fall back to earth again, slamming his fist into the sidewalk. A boom followed by an earthshaking ripple followed, causing Mayhem to teeter and fall back onto the cracking asphalt. The shattered pieces of pavement hit Mayhem like bullets, peppering his bare skin. Margaret saw small patches of blood begin to ooze all over his body as the pebbles made their mark on his flesh.

Mayhem let out a howl like a wounded animal and the winds picked up once more. Margaret shielded herself again under her arms and scrunched into the curb. The winds were circling around them, faster and faster, alternating warm and cold.

A tornado.

She peeked through her arms and saw it, the grey cyclone whirling above them, lowering closer and closer as it threatened to touch down. Mayhem raised his arms and the twister went to him like a lightening rod, forming the base of it's funnel around his wounded body. Soon, the king was invisible through the cyclone's wind and dust. She hid her face behind her arms again, shielding herself from the specks of sand and glass that were whizzing by her head. The wind was roaring in her ears, but little by little it calmed until she felt her hair settle back around her shoulders and the stillness of West Bridge fall around her.

"Margaret, are you okay?" She looked around and saw Ethan materializing out from underneath the mailbox he'd clung to during the attack. She smiled at him, relieved.

"Yea, I'm fine." She nodded and tried to stand up again but the same pain shot through her hands.

"We saw the lightening and came as quick as we could." Layla said, kneeling by Margaret and pulling her upright.

Warren was sauntering over, his hair plastered to his face in the rain. His features were cold and stony, but his eyes were fixed on Margaret.

"Dude, what happened to your hands?" Zach asked. Margaret gave him a questioning look, then saw her palms- bloodied and cut, pieces of asphalt and broken glass stuck into her flesh.

"I must have… fallen…" She said, slightly amazed. No wonder it had hurt to stand.

The clouds slowly began to clear. Steam and the familiar smell of mud from the banks begin to rise and the streets felt like a hot, humid summer day.

Maj groaned. "Gross."

"We'd better get back to school." Layla offered.

Will nodded in agreement. Layla snuck her hand into Will's and Margaret saw him give his girl's hand a squeeze. She almost smiled.

She pushed onto her knees- awkwardly, since she couldn't use her hands- and slowly stood. Her legs felt heavy and the moment she straightened up she felt all the blood rush out of her head. She shook her head to clear it and had the fleeting worry that her hands would scar before her knees gave out and the world went black.


	9. Oh, so that's what that is

Oh, so that's what that is…

Margaret was sitting in the nurse's bed, a thermometer in her mouth and a handful of wires attached to her skin that led to a few machines that beeped and hummed quietly next to her. She was frowning under the thermometer and with her hair still wet and matted against her neck, she looked like a very sick, very unhappy cat.

"You look terrible." Maj chirped from her place by Margaret's side.

"Thanks." She mouthed around the thermometer.

"Is this all really necessary?" Layla asked eying the machine's warily.

"Oh yes," replied Nurse Spex as she smiled lopsidedly at the group of teens surrounding Margaret. "Just a few more tests and she should be ready to go."

Margaret moaned and pulled the beeping thermometer out of her mouth.

"This is bogus, Nurse Spex. I feel fine" Margaret whined trying to sit up, but then whimpered and held her bandaged hands out for inspection.

"Nice." Maj droned. Margaret almost smiled at her. The sarcastic little imp was starting to grow on her.

"You got hit by lightning, honey. That needs to get checked."

"No I didn't." She explained. She had been hit by lightning? What was that crazy old woman talking about?

"That's not what I heard." She answered back, swooping about and pulling one of the wires off of Margaret's arm. She winced and cried out.

"Yow… heard from who?"

A throat cleared itself and Margaret looked up to see Warren leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed over his thick chest. His eyebrow was quirked slightly though she couldn't exactly make out his expression.

"I did not get hit by lightning." She told him matter of factly.

"Yes you did." Ethan agreed, adjusting his glasses.

"I just blacked out." She argued, starting to get annoyed.

"Yea, after you got hit." Warren countered.

"That doesn't make any sense. Why would I be alive if I got hit?"

"Good question." Maj droned.

Margaret shook her head and was about to argue some more when something suddenly occurred to her.

_-She heard the crack of thunder and even though her eyes were squeezed shut she could see the white flash surround her. She felt warm for a second and then the cold of the storm enfolded her once more. She waited for the king's blow and when it didn't come she cautiously peeked up from under her arms. The king was standing before her a thoroughly bewildered look on his face.-_

The warmth, the light- was that lightning?

"I got hit…?" She said quietly. That was impossible. She wasn't indestructible- or was she? Were new powers manifesting? It wasn't unheard of in the super community- a person developing multiple skills- like Stronghold. Could she control electricity and that's why it hadn't hurt her?

"What's happening to me?" She asked nurse Spex feebly. She suddenly wished her mother were there. When she was little, she'd gotten pneumonia and it landed her in the hospital. Her mother had put off a hostage situation at La Scala to sit by her little girl's bed and sing to her- the only thing that could put her to sleep in those days.

Nurse Spex quickly yanked the remaining wires off of Margaret's chest and the girl loudly growled in pain and annoyance. She saw Warren smirking at her from his spot by the door and she frowned at him.

"All of your tests are coming back normal." She said cheerily. "Nothing was damaged during the hit."

"Thank goodness." Layla sighed, relieved.

"But how did I survive?"

"Well," Nurse Spex grabbed a chair and pulled it next to the bed. "Try to remember, did anything unusual happen just before the strike? Did you do or say anything…?"

Margaret looked away slightly.

She had done nothing. She had stood there like a board even when he was inches away from her. She had gotten closer to him than any of the rest and she'd done nothing. The man had wrecked havoc on Maxville and was trying to hurt one of her friends. And thanks to her bumbling and clumsiness, he'd gotten away. _Smooth move_ she thought bitterly. Anyone else would've fought back, or at least run and gotten help. What did she do? She sat there and begged him not to hurt her-

Her eyes grew wide.

"I said, 'Please don't hurt me' right before the lightning hit." She admitted. "Do you think that has something to do with it?"

"Well, there's one way to find out." Spex said with a slap on her thighs as she stood. She grabbed a lollipop from the jar on her desk and held it out towards Margaret.

"Alright, now I want you to remember the attack, play by play. Don't leave any details out. Go over it in your mind and when you get to the point where he attacked, I want you to say orange, alright?"

"Orange?" Was nurse Spex insane?

"Humor me." She replied dryly and gave the lollipop a pointed glare. Margaret looked to Warren who shrugged. She sighed and turned her attention to the sweet in the nurse's hand.

She remembered the smell of the rain. It was heavy and smelt of the river, thick and salty. She remembered the feel of the curb against her back, prickly and cool.

She remembered the king, his large, naked torso hovering over her. He was lit by lightning flashes and the cold light made his muscular upper body seem angular and stony. She remembered his tree-trunk arms raising over his head and she saw the sky grow green and angry. She felt her heart beat quicken in the nurse's bed and she quickly called out, "Orange!"

The lollipop in Nurse Spex's hand gave a shudder, then it started throbbing, growing and expanding into a sphere. The wrapper was replaced with a thick, rough skin and the stick became a small green leaf at the top of an-

"Orange?" Layla stammered. The group was staring at the newly formed fruit in Nurse Spex's palm with wide eyes and gaping mouths. Even Warren's eyebrows were raised in amazement.

"Oh, good. I thought so." Spex laughed as she tossed the orange to Zach who caught it with a frightened cry. Zach cautiously placed the orange on the edge of the bed and backed away, eying it distrustfully.

"Am I a witch?" Margaret asked. Spex laughed merrily.

"No, honey. You're a hero. You might even be greater than your mom. All she can do is manipulate people. Not that that's anything to sneeze," She laughed, smoothing back her tiny pigtails. "But she could never do that." She pointed at the orange.

"What exactly is… that?" Margaret asked, thoroughly confused and a bit overwhelmed.

"Vocal manipulation. The gene seems to run in your family."

"But I don't know of anyone that can make oranges." Margaret paused for a moment, thinking. "Is that all I can do? Make fruit?"

"Some power." Maj said. Margaret had to smile that time.

"It stems from the Elizabethan principle of vocal projection." Nurse Spex explained. Margaret just stared at her.

"Like in Shakespeare." Ethan added. "The Elizabethan's believed that people could cause things to happen just by saying them. Some scholar's believe that in _Romeo and Juliet_, the couple aren't cursed until Mercutio calls 'A plague on both your houses.' Because he swears vengeance, and does so under intense emotional stress, his words come to pass."

Margaret just stared at him.

"Whatever you say, happens." Warren explained.

"So long as you're in the right emotional state." Spex finished.

"What does that mean, right emotional state?"

"Fear is a powerful emotion, Margaret, don't underestimate it. When animals are frightened, they react in one of two ways- fight or flight. What separates heroes from sidekicks is that a hero's automatic response is fight, the sidekick's is to run. Luckily for you, your ability to fight lies in your desire to run." Nurse Spex smiled. Margaret's head was spinning.

"I still don't think I understand…"

"You have a very strong will to live, Miss Allen. That's why you're still here."

"And that's a good thing." Layla chirped. Margaret looked over and gave her a waning smile, all she could muster at that point.

"It's like in a musical," Spex started again, "People sing because the emotions are too intense for just plain ole' words. Your emotions, your desires, your fears, are so intense they have the ability to change the world around you to your particular needs. But, you have to careful. With great-"

"Power comes great responsibility?" Will ventured. Layla hit him lightly in the arm and the two grinned at each other. Maj rolled her eyes.

"No. With a power like this, you have to be extra careful what you say, especially when your very happy or sad, or scared."

"Be careful what I wish for?" Margaret asked. Nurse Spex nodded.

"With a power like this, you just might get it."

"Awesome." Zach nodded slowly as he finally understood what they'd been talking about.

Margaret didn't know what to think.

"Well, you kids had better get on home. I think Principle Powers saved one of the buses for you." Nurse Spex smiled a toothy smile as she waved her arms about. Margaret stood up slowly, her hands still throbbing from the cuts and bruises. Nurse Spex grabbed the orange from the end of the bed and started peeling it.

Margaret looked at her hands and pursed her lips in thought. There was a little bit of blood seeping through the gauze. She wasn't going to be able to write, which would put her behind in classes. _Great, _she thought,_ at this rate I'll never graduate_. She thought about the rest of her year with someone always by her taking her notes, writing her papers for her- and since life seemed to have a sick sense of humor, that person would most likely be Warren.

She started at the thought and pleaded with her hands, "Please, please heal." Something warm and tingly started pricking at her palms. She could feel her hands shaking underneath the bandages.

"Go ahead and take them off."

Margaret almost jumped as Nurse Spex' s face appeared over her shoulder, sucking on an orange wedge. Slowly Margaret unwrapped the gauze, revealing two unscarred palms.

"Oh-hoo, I thought so." Spex's cooed excitedly. "It's just like Edward Scissorhands. With Johnny Depp. Oh, I just _love _him." She laughed and seemed to be lost in her own thoughts for a moment. "Well, you'd best run along. Don't want your folks to worry."

Margaret nodded and thanked her and went to grab her bag.

"You're quite handy." Ethan said as she dropped the bag over her head. She stared at him for a moment, then smiled and elbowed him playfully in the ribs. Ethan gave her a small smile and followed the rest of them out into the hall. Warren and Margaret were the only ones left.

"How are your knees?" She asked, her fully functioning fingers toying with her bag's strap.

"Fine."

"Don't you think Nurse Spex ought to take a look at you?"

"Hmn? Look at Warren?" Spex asked. She looked from Margaret to Warren to Margaret again and let out a small laugh. "Are you serious?"

"What?" Margaret asked, her face clouding. She was obviously missing something.

"Do you think I'd waste my time on an Indestructible?"

"A what?"

"An Indestructible." She repeated, motioning to Warren who just stood there, avoiding Margaret's eyes.

It took her a moment to remember what the old woman was talking about. It had been an essay topic in her mad science class freshmen year when they had been discussing popular forms of super powers. One of the oldest and most mysterious was the power of regeneration, the ability to heal oneself after attacks and to even stay the affects of aging. People who possessed such powers were known as Indestructible.

Margaret remembered the day Stronghold had gotten his powers. He'd knocked Warren through two walls, into the ceiling and over a set of cafeteria tables. The young man had stood up hit after hit and begged fore more.

"_You think I can't take a hit?"_

Her eyes grew wide. "You're an Indestructible?"

Warren nodded, his now dry hair falling in front of his face. All she could see, once more were his eyes, a sight see was getting more and more used to.

"Just like his mother." Spex waxed affectionately. "Now you two'd better get on home." She cried as she quickly pushed the two out into the hall and slammed the door shut behind them.


	10. Dinner and Maybe a Show

AN: I'm sorry in advance for the weird change from the bus to the restaurant. I can't seem to make the page breaks show up on So, please forgive… and enjoy.

Dinner and Maybe a Show

The ride back to earth was bumpy. The bus driver, a red-haired, bee hived woman named Doris, seemed to be hitting every cloud bank on their way back, making the bus shake and dip. Margaret found herself with a white-knuckled grip onto the safety restraints, keeping her attention on the back of the seat in front of her.

Layla and Will were sitting catty corner from her, calmly enjoying the ride. She could see Layla's pretty red head resting on Will's wide shoulder. Maj, Ethan and Zach were sitting few seats ahead of her, chatting and laughing and Margaret couldn't understand why they weren't holding on for dear life.

She remembered her first trip up to Sky High with some little embarrassment. She'd screamed the whole way up and though that wasn't uncommon for freshmen, especially with then-bus-driver Ron Wilson at the helm, but she'd been taken to the nurse's office almost immediately afterward and given a shot of Demerol to calm her nerves.

The bus started it's descent. The metal box gave a final shudder as it passed through it's last cloud then leveled out. Margaret peeked away from the seatback and could see the tops of houses flashing by underneath them. She relaxed slightly and she could feel her stiffened fingers crinkle at their release.

Warren was sitting directly behind her. She could see his profile reflected in the window, his blank stare faded amongst the clouds. She wondered what he was thinking about- what all super heroes think about after a battle. Was he going over maneuvers, replaying the whole scene to think of what he might have done better? _What he might have done better_, the bitter voice crept into her ears, _was to not get saddled with you._

"Hey," Layla's head sprung up from Will's shoulder, breaking Margaret's thoughts- and attention- from the face in the window. "Why don't we get some dinner?"

"Now?"

"Yea. I think we deserve it."

"I can't." Ethan said plainly. "We have midterms next week."

"Next week, man," Zach droned.

"I don't want to get stuck studying the night before. This is all going on our permanent records." The teens groaned.

"I'll go." Maj offered in her usual unenthusiastic way.

"Yea, it could be cool." Zach added, a little too obviously.

"Where are we going?" Will asked, wrapping his arm around Layla.

"Paper Lantern?"

"I think a celebratory egg roll might be in order." Will nodded, planting a small kiss on Layla's cheek.

"Meg, you in?"

"Yea, I could eat." She nodded.

"Great!" Layla chirped, clapping her hands together happily.

"Hey Peace," Zach called out, "We see you there man?" Warren didn't answer and Margaret saw his reflection shift in his seat and heard him give a grunting sigh. Layla took that as a yes.

"Great!" She chirped again and snuggled back into Will's side.

Margaret pushed her lo mein about her plate carelessly, not really paying attention to Zach as he explained exactly how it felt when he powered up.

She was in agony. What had started out as a post-fight dinner had turned into a double date, with Margaret as the fifth wheel. Will and Layla kept exchanging knowing, cheerful glances as Zach and Magenta finished each other's sentences and laughed at each other's jokes. Margaret smiled shallowly and excused herself to the ladies room.

The restaurant was packed. The crazy haired man and a younger waitress with large, hoop earrings were dashing about with the quick grace of those used to the food industry. Margaret could hear cooks chattering and yelling to each other in Cantonese every time the kitchen doors swung open.

She found herself peeking around the quickly closing doors to see if there was any sign of a dark haired man washing dishes, but saw nothing but a squat, angry looking man through the steam of a stir fry.

"Hello there." A familiar, friendly voice shocked Margaret out of her scan of the kitchens and back to the restaurant where a small, slightly worn looking woman was standing before her with an armful of menus and a kind smile.

"Hey, Ms. Peace."

"Hello, Peg."

"Um, it's Meg, actually"

"Meg, right. I have no mind for names." She said with a smile and a slight, apologetic bow. Margaret couldn't help but smile back.

"No, it's fine."

"Is everything alright, do you need more soup?"

"Oh, no. I was just headed for the restroom."

"Oh, of course, of course." She nodded and stepped out of Margaret's way, holding her arm out to direct the young girl's path. Margaret nodded a thank you and tucked some of her hair behind her ear as she skirted past Ms. Peace.

_So, she thought, that's the indestructible Ms. Peace. It hardly seemed right. She was so tiny, so tired looking. Margaret was having a hard time believing that that woman was a secret powerhouse of healing. It was almost impossible that she should be Warren's mother…_

"Ms. Peace?" Margaret found herself turning around, stopping the older lady in her tracks who then offered Meg a polite but questioning smile. "Is it true that you're an indestructible? Nurse Spex said something today at school and I was just wondering-"

Ms. Peace nodded, a wise, knowing look on her face. She crooked a finger at Margaret then started off for the kitchen. Margaret followed, taking a quick look back at the table. Maj was laughing loudly at something Zach had said, who sat there beaming his good fortune. _They'll be fine without me,_ Margaret assured herself.

The Kitchen was noisy. The clatter of pots and the quick chip of knifes dicing rose up all around her just like the steam from the surrounding pots of dumplings. The angry looking cook said something to Ms. Peace as she passed and the older woman responded in short, nippy tones. The cook gave a short laugh then returned his attention to the wok in front of him.

Ms. Peace passed through a curtain of hanging wooden beads that clattered like bones as they parted and fell back on each other. When Margaret passed through she found herself in the restaurant's business office. A dark, wooden desk sat in the middle with a high backed leather chair behind it. The lights were dim in this room, a nice contrast from the harshness of the kitchen's fluorescents.

What caught Margaret's attention were the pictures hanging on the mahogany paneled walls. A few were of Ms. Peace- though an obviously younger version- smiling happily in front of a neat looking stucco house and one of her holding a wet, sudsy dog. There was a copy of Barron Battle's senior yearbook photo, all plaid dinner jacket and smiles and then there was a larger set that covered most of the wall.

Warren.

There were pictures of him in diapers smiling and running under a set of sprinklers. A three year old Warren offering a top-toothless-grin over his birthday cake while Barron loomed over his shoulder, a wide smile on his father's face. There were pictures of him in his pajama's, pictures in front of the Christmas tree, all of them plotting out different years, different ages. There were even a few of the Warren she knew- the tall, lean young man with the long, dark hair pulled back from face, a towel over his shoulder and an arm around his mother.

"Warren told me about your… excursion this afternoon." Ms. Peace said from behind the desk.

"Oh." She replied, because she didn't know what else to say. If there was one thing she'd learned at Sky High it was that the truth was objective, that it changed considering who was telling it, and there was no way she could tell what Warren's version of that afternoon had been.

"How are you?" She asked, a nice, mothering look on her face. She looked concerned, almost worried. It was nice. Margaret hadn't seen much of her mother lately and she didn't feel right talking about super things with her loving accountant of a father.

"I'm tired." She admitted, taking a tentative seat across from the desk. "I've never been so scared in my whole life as I was today. I don't see how you people do it."

"You people?"

"Super heroes."

"You're a hero, too." She laughed.

"But see, that's just it. All of my life I've been gearing up to be a sidekick. And now… It's a nightmare. I'm completely behind. I'm the laughing stock of the senior hero class. At this rate, I wont even graduate. I'll be stuck at Sky High for another year as some loser repeat."

"There's no shame in repeating a grade." She warned.

"No, I know." She said quickly. Warren had been kept back his freshman year which was still a point of contention for him. It was only through saving the school at homecoming and proving that he could 'play well with others'- the reason he was held back in the first place- that he'd gotten moved back to the right year.

"I just feel a bit overwhelmed. I had my whole life set around being a sidekick and now I have to learn how to lead and fight and choose sides-"

"You can't plan life, believe me." She said with a smile that struck Margaret as terribly, terribly sad. "The best we can do is be flexible, that way we stay on our feet. If we try to fight the current, we drown. You have to go with the tide."

"I know. It's just… hard." She felt like such a wimp. Of course life was hard, who did she think she was? Even as she said it, she realized that her life wasn't so bad. She had a loving family, she had finally found her power, she was healthy, she was relatively content. Maybe that's all she really had the right to ask for.

"If you wanted, I could help you." Ms. Peace's offer took Margaret by surprise.

"With what?"

"With some of your training. Believe me, sometimes it's necessary to learn outside the box."

"I don't know. I mean, I'm really bad. Embarrassingly bad."

"You're Janice Boomowski's little girl. There is nothing embarrassing about you." She said with such assuring force that Margaret thought for a moment that she'd offended the older woman.

"I'm not too sure. I'd have to check-"

"Of course, of course." She smiled politely and stood up, meaning for Margaret to understand that their 'meeting' was over. Margaret stood hastily.

"Oh," Ms. Peace's face lit up with a sudden thought and she went back into the kitchen. Margaret followed, the light almost blinding her and the smell of egg rolls making her stomach ache for her forgotten dinner. "I'd almost forgotten. Would you mind terribly bringing Warren his dinner? I'd go myself, but the we're packed and I'm afraid I've spent too much time off the floor as is-"

"Take him dinner? Isn't he here?"

"No. He's over at Al's."

"Al's?" She asked, incredulous. Ms. Peace nodded and started packing plastic take out containers of soup and noodles into a brown paper sack. Al's was a pool hall in the heart of the banks. It was a mafia stronghold during prohibition and rumors had it that Capone even spent some time at the infamous bar, spending time with the gang lord of the banks, a close personal friend of the Chicago Mafioso.

Of all the seedy places in the Banks, Al's had the worst reputation and the worst clientele. What was Warren doing there?

"Here. Just tell the man at the door you're there for Warren. They'll let you in." Ms. Peace said quickly as she pushed the full to bursting bag into Margaret's arms. The girl staggered backwards a bit.

"Are you sure?"

"Trust me." She said in a warning tone that Margaret gathered wasn't so much for her as for anyone who dared to give Ms. Peace's new delivery girl any trouble. "Now all you have to do is take a left on Monroe and you can't miss it. There's usually a crowd outside the door. Now, you'd better hurry. I don't want it to get too cold." She said gently pushed Margaret out a side door that led to the alley behind the restaurant.

The night had set in during dinner and Margaret could see the steam rising from the sewer grates that lined the curbs. A rat scuttled in a nearby trashcan, searching for scraps. Ms Peace started to close the door but stopped suddenly, taking a good look at Margaret. She smiled at the girl and gently took her chin in her small, wrinkled hand. Her skin was so smooth and cool. Margaret liked it.

"You look so much like your mother." She said quietly. "Well, you'd best get going." She gave Margaret a little wink then closed the door. Margaret stared at the metal exit for a minute before starting down the alley way for her second trip into the banks.


	11. Voices Carry

AN: A WARNING: This chapter contains mention of pointless violence and alcohol. I feel the need to warn since the previous chapters have been pretty tame compared to this one and I don't want anyone getting offended or troubled. If this bothers you, that's cool. Please go and read 'Layla'. It's a nice kissy piece, you'll like it : )

Also, I feel the need to stand up for OC and Mary Sue writers. We've gotten a mad wrap over the years as far as the fan fiction world is concerned. I understand when badly written pieces are looked down on, but just because a writer adds characters to a particular 'verse' doesn't mean it's automatically crap. So those who write OC pieces, like me, keep on doing what you're doing. And all those who bitch and complain that we're childish, imbeciles and unimaginative… get bent.

Thank you.

Voices Carry

The crowd outside Al's was large and thick. The scent of cigars and beer was thick and Margaret almost choked on it as she pushed her way to the mountain of a bouncer that stood guard at the door. She felt so small compared to the shadowed figures surrounding her, and with Warren's dinner clutched in her shaking hands she couldn't help but feel like Red Riding Hood going straight into the wolf's belly.

"Go home." The bouncer threatened as she drew near. His voice made her shudder and she almost lost her resolve. After all, what was it to her if Warren ate or not? He was a grown man, he could fend for himself. But his mother had sent her, a small, sweet lady who just wanted her son to get fed. Well, she was a hero….

"I'm here to see Warren." She was ashamed at how small her voice sounded. She held up the sack as though it were her police badge and the bouncer looked her over. Eventually he nodded and pushed the door open.

"Don't you want to see my ID?" She asked. The bouncer gave a gargled laugh then turned his stony attention to the large crowd still swarming outside the bar. _Really,_ she thought,_ What's the point in having a fake ID if no one cards you?_

She felt the music before she heard it. It was something loud with a dull, pounding bass that she could feel in her teeth. The bar itself was dimly lit and crowded, a few hanging light bulbs shedding pools of yellowed light that illuminated the clientele- toothless men nursing long necks, bleached-blonde women in spandex downing shots of brownish liquid. She could hear spurts of hoarse laughter and coarse language over the boom of the music.

Instinctively she pulled the bag into her chest and wrapped her arms around it as though it were a kitten or something far more valuable than an egg roll and some noodles. She felt terribly out of place and every once in a while would receive a stare from one of the regulars that only encouraged that fact.

She found herself wandering through the crowd. There was no one behind the bar and she couldn't find anyone who looked like they might be willing and able to give her a point in the right direction. She kept her wide eyes alert to anyone that might be Warren, but lean boys in black with long, oily looking hair were a staple in places like Al's and Margaret soon found herself far from the front door, being sucked towards the back as though she were caught in an undertow.

The pounding music was replaced by the sounds of men cheering grunting. The faces around her changed from drunk and pacified to loud, angry and red. The room was light by a string of harsh fluorescent lights that beamed down in sickeningly yellowed slants. Margaret was tossed between beer bellies and heavily tattooed arm feeling like a cat toy being batted at between large, smelly paws.

Eventually she was knocked to the center of the room and the smallish boxing ring that stood there. The white of the canvas had long ago been stained with sweat and blood and beer and the ropes were fraying and flaking, dusting the edge of the mat with tawny colored twine.

The men surrounding the tattered looking ring were all large and most of them balding. Their skins were covered in ink and hoops that stuck out from their rigidly muscular forms like Christmas tree decorations. They were all yelling at the ring, rather at the two men in the ring. They were both shirtless and wearing worn, torn jeans. One of them was lying on the mat, his torso covered in sweat and a thin sheen of blood that was flowing from his nose and lower lip. His face was drawn and tired looking and his bare hands were bleeding all over the canvas as he tried desperately to get up.

The man who was standing was hovering over the prone bleeder like a vulture waiting to swoop in for the kill. His black hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, wisps of which were plastered against his sweaty neck. Margaret could see the well-defined muscles in his back heaving with his labored breathing. His own arms were down by his sides, a small amount of blood caking around his bare fists and tattooed wrists.

Flame tattooed wrists.

Margaret's eyes widened. She'd seen those tattoos before. She'd seen them everyday at school since she was a freshman. They were usually hidden under thick leather cuffs and a pair of fingerless gloves, but she'd seen them. She almost dropped the bag.

"Warren?" She asked allowed, though she knew no one around her could hear over the bellowing. Warren Peace was a bare-knuckle boxer at Al's? The day just kept getting stranger and stranger…

As soon as she'd spoken his name, she saw his back tense up, the taut muscles pulling to attention. He turned in her direction and looked over his shoulder at the crowd. His face was covered in odd shadows in the strange lighting of the bar. She saw his eyes narrow slightly as he realized she was there and she saw him mouth, 'Meg?' though she never heard him over the din.

That's when his opponent managed to his feet and slammed his bruised fist into Warren's side. Peace winced at the unexpected hit and doubled over giving the other man a clear shot for Warren's nose- which he took.

The crowd groaned as the crisp sound of Warren's nose shattering hit the air. Another punch sent him to his knees and he hit the canvas with a dull thud. Margaret thought she was going to vomit. Their positions were now reversed with Warren hurt and limp on the ground with the larger man towered above him, starting to dance a bit in smug satisfaction. The taller man kicked at the side of Warren's head, sending him flying into the prickly ropes, which all but snapped under Warren's weight.

The crowd cheered and the large man raised his arms in premature triumph, conducting as they chanted his name. Warren winced and managed to pull himself up, spitting out a mouthful of blood as his did, shaking his hair back from his face. Margaret was standing right before him, thunderstruck.

He caught her eyes for just a second and he could see a thin rim of tears threatening to spill. Warren was hurt. She didn't care if he was an Indestructible or not, he was in pain. He looked so small, struggling to sit up on the bloodied mat. She remembered the pictures on the wall of tiny Warren; she remembered his mother and the warm bag she was still protecting in her arms.

She felt angry, angry with the idiot covered in Warren's blood standing on the other side of the ring. She shifted her gaze from Warren to the man and her eyes narrowed. She had to stop him, had to make him leave her friend alone, had to make him pay for what he'd already done…

She started to open her mouth, not exactly sure what she was going to say but knowing it was going to be something good, when she felt wet, warm fingers on her lips, forcing them closed. She returned her attention to Warren whose arm was now stretched past the ropes and over her mouth. His eyes were wide with something that she would've pegged as concern on anyone else but as foreign on him, and he shook his head slowly.

Margaret's eyes widened and she pulled away just as the other man's foot slammed down on the back of Warren's knee. The young man let out a hard cry and panted heavily through the pain. Margaret saw it in his eyes, the same thing she'd seen that afternoon with Kamaya-Mayhem. Warren was pissed and someone was about to get hurt.

Warren quickly pulled himself up to his good knee and let a solid punch fly into the other man's stomach, who doubled over and bellowed, his eyes bugging out of his head. Peace stood and hovered over the man for the slightest of moments before slamming his fist down through the man's jaw, sending him to his knees. The dark young man kicked at the once-again-prone man's side and he went rolling into the ropes, starting to gurgle on a mouthful of his own blood.

Warren started for him again but a small, stout man wearing a bright blue bowling shirt stopped him, pulling his bloodied, sweaty arm high into the air and crying, "WINNER!" The crowd went wild.

Warren stood there for a moment, panting and spit out another mouthful of blood as his injured opponent was dragged from the ring. The lean boy grabbed his black, button down shirt from it's perch over the ropes and ducked out of the ring, dropping into the crowd who was now too drunk and disorderly to know who was wandering through them to get to the girl by the mat.

She felt his fingers pull at the crook of her arm and, like clockwork, she followed, keeping a tight hold on the bag. She followed the dark boy through the crowd around the mat which was being refilled with two new fighters, and back towards the bar, the music having slowed into something mellow and country.

He slipped underneath the bar and grabbed a glass for himself, pouring the dark-glass bottle's contents into the quickly foaming mug. Margaret sat shyly on one of the bar stools and looked around. The blonde-haired women were all on the floor, slow dancing with burly men whose hands were firmly planted places a lady would never allow to be grabbed.

Warren took a long swig from the glass then slammed it down, staring at Margaret. He was still panting a bit, and even though he was starting to heal, she could see a thin sliver of a cut grazing across his bottom lip.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, sounding none too pleased to see her.

"I… uh…" Margaret quickly placed the grease-bottomed bag on the counter before him, like a boyar presenting Vlad the Impaler with a peace offering. Warren looked at the sack and his face shifted slightly. Margaret even saw the corner of his mouth lift, though she wasn't about to call it a smile.

"Mom sent you." He answered himself with a slight shake of his head. He lifted the glass and took another swig, the darkened foam fizzing as he swallowed.

"You want something to drink?"

"Oh no, I don't drink." She stammered quickly. Actually she didn't drink in bars filled with crazy bikers and failed mobsters. She'd had some champagne at her Aunt's wedding last summer-

"Me neither." He said simply. She looked confusedly from him to his darkened glass and he gently placed an emptied glass Coca-cola bottle on the bar, offering her a small, smug smirk as he finished his coke in a final swig.

"Ha." She sneered playfully.

"So, dinner not work out?" He asked, tossing his used glass into a plastic box near the taps.

"No, it did. I just got roped into delivery work."

"Gotta love Mom." He joked. Margaret grinned.

"So," She started tentatively, "What was that?" She pointed over her shoulder towards the bloody, sweaty canvas in the back. Warren almost sighed.

"_That_ is a few extra bucks every week. And a great way to work of some… tension." He finished carefully. Margaret wasn't exactly sure what he meant but she nodded in a knowing way.

"Oh. How very Wolverine of you."

He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "Where do you think I got the idea?" Margaret laughed, a loud bark of sound that made her whole body feel lighter. Warren chuckled slightly too, his still bare shoulders shaking a bit as he shook his head.

"Come on, I'll drive you home."

"No, it's alright. I've got a ride with Layla."

"Alright, then I'll walk you back to the Lantern." He shrugged his shirt back on and buttoned it. Margaret caught a quick glimpse of his surprisingly well-defined torso as the shirt covered it up. Strange, he didn't look like he's be so… built. She wondered what else his clothes might be hiding then forced herself to look away as she felt her cheeks flush.

Warren grabbed his dinner and ducked out from behind the bar. Margaret hopped off her stool and followed, ducking as drunkards almost smashed into her and each other.

"'Night Jack." Warren called to the bouncer as they slipped outside, the crowd still as large and throbbing as before.

"See ya kid. Back tomorrow?"

Warren shrugged and stuffed his hand in his pocket, the other fist clutching the bag, and elbowed out of the crowd, cutting an easy path for Margaret to follow.


	12. The Objects of our Affections

AN: Okay, I'll make y'all a deal. If you pump the review count up to 200, I'll put in a chapter with copious Warren nudity- from the waist up at least- and if they're actual reviews and not just filler, I'll make him sweaty and glistening.

Also, anyone who loves the Strait-man, there's a promotional DVD available of his new movie, "Undiscovered" that has music videos and a 'making of' reel and Steven Strait. That's really all ya need.

The Objects of our Affections

"I hate mornings after saving the world." Zach moaned as he slumped down on the barrier wall next to Layla, sleepily slamming his head into her shoulder. She laughed and pushed him gingerly off, causing him to fall over and curl up on the grass at her feet, like some great, neon cat.

"Weren't we just here?" Margaret added, rubbing her eyes with a groggy smile. Layla smiled and took a bite of her apple.

Margaret looked about the front lawn. Buses were landing with soft booms and students were scuttling about the grass and up the stairs, tossing footballs, trading homework, chatting, laughing. None of them had any idea of what had happened the day before, how they'd been in danger, how the world had been in danger and how their saviors were sitting on the wall, tired and a little grumpy.

"Layla, did you bring enough for the rest of the class?" Margaret asked, eying the apple covetously. Layla smiled and pulled a granola bar out of her bag, tossing it to Margaret. She caught it and gave the red head a surreptitious smile, muttering something about vegetarians under her breath.

"So, Meg, what did you and Warren talk about last night?"

Meg almost choked on the granola. "What?"

"Last night. After dinner you two were standing outside the Lantern. What were you two talking about?"

"The weather." Warren answered dryly as he found his way by the wall behind Margaret. She stiffened at the sound of his voice and quickly swallowed the rest of the granola in her mouth. She looked over her shoulder. There he was, glaring at them front behind his curtain of black hair. The few streaks of red were almost golden in the morning's light, and she thought she could see his eyes flashing black under the fringe. She quickly looked back at the wrapper of granola in her hand.

Layla nodded quietly and took a bite of apple, but she didn't look quite convinced or satisfied. Margaret knew that a Q and A would follow during lunch. She grumbled and took another bite of granola.

"Good morning everyone." Ethan cheerily chirped as he found the group. Layla waved and Zach managed a sleepy 'hey' from his prone position. "Where's Will?"

"Late." The young man smiled as he jogged to the group. "Sorry. I just wanted to see Principle Powers." He paused and his face grew clouded. "Is it just me or has she been a bit… off lately?"

Margaret looked up at Warren, Will's concern echoing her own from yesterday. His eyes flickered to her for just a moment before staring at Will.

"What do you mean, off?"

"I dunno." He shrugged, chewing on his bottom lip.

"She sent us down there for starters." Margaret added.

"If it wasn't safe she wouldn't have sent us." Layla politely reminded, her hand covering Will's in a comforting manner.

"It still doesn't sit right." She said quietly to Will who looked at her with a quiet face. He understood her, he believed her, he agreed with her, she could see it in his eyes, and that worried her.

"Nothing's gonna happen, is it?" Zach asked, sitting up, suddenly very interested.

"No." Will said matter of factly, giving him a reassuring smirk. Layla gave his hand a squeeze and Will brought hers to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "I'm never going to let anything hurt you." He whispered to her, his lips still moving across her skin. Layla blushed and Margaret was sure she saw a thin rim of water quickly edge her eyes.

Warren gave a throaty laugh and the pair quickly separated, blushing and smiling but still holding hands.

"Sickeningly sweet." Margaret cooed, giving them a grin.

"So, you have a date for homecoming yet?" Layla asked. Margaret rolled her eyes.

"No. I didn't have one yesterday and I haven't found one in the subsequent twenty-fours hours."

"Oh. I thought maybe you and Warren had talked about it last night-"

"Layla-" Margaret warned.

"Margaret and Warren are going to Homecoming together?" Ethan asked excitedly, apparently pleased with the news.

"No, we're not." Margaret said, feeling her face growing warmer by the second. She couldn't even look at Warren, keeping her eyes focused on the granola in her hands.

"You should." Ethan said, adjusting his glasses as he slipped into egghead mode. "After all, these are the years when super heroes form the most important relationships of their lives."

"Hunh?"

"Hero marriages are usually formed-"

"Ugh, Ethan, I'm eighteen years old, I'm not getting married." She groaned.

"No," Will said. "He's got a point. Most hero couples hook up at Sky High. Warren, didn't your folks meet here?"

"Are you all insane! This is like an episode of the twilight zone!" She cried, leaping to her feet, albeit a little awkwardly, and quickly brushing off the seat of her jeans.

"Well, what else are we supposed to fight for? Relationships are the reasons heroes are heroic. Margaret, without a man, you're doomed to be ineffectual as a-"

"STOP!" She yelled, her whole face growing red. She realized immediately what she'd done, and stood panting in the still air looking about at the now frozen front lawn of Sky High. Zach was mid yawn, Layla's mouth hung slack as she was about to chime into the conversation, Will sat still chewing on his bottom lip.

She sighed and smoothed her hair back. Great, now everything was frozen and she was agitated. What was Ethan going on about? Was he really serious? Was she really doomed without a boyfriend? That idea settled in her stomach like lead. What if he was right? Warren had said something about powers being triggered by moments of emotional stress. What is she needed to be emotional for her powers to work?

She thought back over the past few months. It made sense. Every time she'd had an 'episode' she'd been in some sort of emotional upheaval; When she thought Warren was going to kill her, when she thought Warren was going to kill Maj, when she thought Mayhem was going to kill her and Warren.

She looked at the dark haired man next to her, his face frozen in its usual scowl. Every time she'd powered up, Warren was in her thoughts. Was that a sign? Did that mean something?

She stared at the face hidden behind his veil of hair and found herself trying to memorize every bit of it, the horns that appeared when he furrowed his brows, the defined line of his jaw as he clamped his teeth shut behind those full, smooth lips. Warren Peace was beautiful, there was no denying that, and as she stood there looking at him for that moment of frozen time, she wondered if there wasn't something more to the two of them.

Almost as suddenly as it hit the freeze was over. The wind started up again rustling the drying leaves on the trees. Zach finished his yawn and sat up, pulling himself mentally and physically together.

"I think it's romantic." Zach smiled. "You know? A girl worth fighting for?"

"It's bull." Warren said simply. Margaret realized too late that she was still staring at him, her eyes trailing down the curve of his throat when he caught her eying him and gave her a displeased look. "Heroism isn't about saving the girl, it's about saving the citizen. The sooner you get that in your heads, the better off you'll be." And with that he grabbed his back and sauntered off, slamming into a student as his hulked his way up the stairs.

Margaret grabbed her own bag and quickly slammed it over her shoulder, hurrying off after him, leaving Ethan and Will and Layla to continue the debate, and Zach to finally wake up.

"What do you mean?" She said to his shoulder blade as she finally caught up to him, panting. "Whew, you walk fast.'

"No, you walk slow." He said, rather harshly, and Margaret couldn't help but wonder what had set him off.

"What did you mean?" She repeated. "You don't think that heroes should fall in love?"

"Love has nothing to do with it. We don't do this because of the fame and the praise and the thank-you cards. We do this because it's right. Out there, it's not about feelings, it's about doing what's right."

She stared at him, slack-jawed for a moment, her breath still high in her chest. "You really aren't human." She murmured quietly before she could stop herself. His face immediately clouded and she heard the softest of growls in his throat.

"Humanity has nothing to do with it. Neither do emotions."

"So when you roast kids because they _think_ about your dad, that has nothing to do with emotions?" She snipped, becoming confused which she masked with righteous anger. Warren just got angry.

"Shut up." He warned lowly.

"Yea, some big hero you are." The edges of his fingers started to haze in the threat of fire but she didn't care enough to stop. "He's gone, Warren. Get over it already."

The fireball just missed her shoulder. She could feel it flame by her arm and warm her cheek before it crashed into the maple tree behind her. Students squealed and quickly moved camp, then resettled and continued about their morning, not giving the arguing couple a second look. Except for the group of juniors who were clumped about the wall, eagerly watching as though it were a new episode of 'Family Guy.'

Margaret, livid, reeled back and let her hand fly at Warren's face. Seamlessly, the young man caught her wrist and grabbed her shoulder, twisting her arm up behind her and pinning her squarely against his chest. She gagged in pain, squirming under his vice-like grip.

"You don't know me." He breathed into her ear.

"Yes I do." She managed through pain-clenched teeth. "You're the guy that reads Shakespeare and works at his mom's restaurant. You drive a firebird and you can't take a right hook to save your life." She managed a choked laugh as he released her. She immediately pulled her arm into her chest, cradling it like a small child.

"I'm your friend, whether you like it or not." She finished, panting.

"Mr. Peace." A familiar voice boomed. "Miss Allen." The pair looked up to find Coach Boomer standing above them, arms crossed over his thick chest. "Is there a problem?"

"Not really, sir-"

"Oh, but I think there is. Peace, no flaming outside the gym. And Allen, that was pathetic." He clucked, slowly shaking his head. Margaret suddenly wished she'd stayed in bed.

"Both of you, detention room. NOW!" He boomed, making her clothes ripple against her body. She grimaced once the boom was done and clutched at her shoulder strap, downtrodden, and followed Boomer inside, making sure to keep a safe distance from Warren.


End file.
